The Billionaire's Trophy Wife
by nonoza
Summary: Bella and Charles are raising her children after Edward left her. it's causing a lot of talk so they decide to get married to keep the half vampire twins out of the spotlight but life just isn't that simple. ON HAITUS
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I just have to write this story and I have to write it now. If you've read my stories then you already know these characters. Charles is Bella's husband and Aaron is his best friend. It's a while after New moon.**

**Prologue**

**APV**

I walked into the house. I couldn't see Isabella, I couldn't see Charles either. God, they'd better not be having sex. I checked his office just to be sure that he was available. He was sitting at his desk listening to Dolly Parton. Dolly Parton! The man hated country music. I would think was Isabella's doing but she hated music in general.

"What the Fuck are you doing?" I asked him.

"It's not what I'm doing," he shook his head looking at the desk.

I just knew this was her doing, her malice.

"She's leaving me," his voice shook.

"Um, where is she going?" I didn't get what he was talking about.

"I didn't say she was leaving Aaron. I said she was leaving _me_." I looked at him and saw the tears falling. Charles didn't cry. He actually had to go to therapy for this reason but tonight he was crying. I didn't know what to say. I just sat in the chair opposite him and listened to the song. It was fitting.

_You say tomorrow you're going_

_It's so hard for me to believe._

_I'm making plans for the mourning._

_Coz you're making plans to leave._

_The tears for me will be falling_

_Like a tree shedding its leaves._

_I'm making plans for the teardrops_

_Coz you're making plans to leave._

_You're making plans to forget me_

_I'm making plans to miss you_

_I'm getting ready to grieve_

_I'm making plans to be lonesome_

_Coz you're making plans to leave._

"Aren't you happy?" he asked me through hysterical laughter.

"No," I could hear my own voice shake for his heartache.

"I know you didn't like her," he nodded in agreement with his own statement.

"And you know that I love you," I reminded him.

"Aaron," he stopped sobbing and looked at me, "I love you. You are like a brother to me but I cannot tell you how much I would give to hear _her _say those words."

"Then stop her," I said angrily. I did not like Isabella, no one did, but Charles loved her and his heart was breaking because of her.

"Too much has been said and done," he said in a foreign voice. "That's actually what she said, you know? She said that too much had been said and done. I wish I could go back in time and take it all back."

"I'm sorry," I told him earnestly.

"Are you really?" for the first time that night, he looked me in the eye.

"Yes," I responded, "I may not have liked her but I know she meant the world to you," As I said this it dawned on me how true it was. "What should I do?" I asked him because I honestly didn't know what to do. I had never seen him so heartbroken.

"Come lie with me," he walked out the door. I thought he was going to bed but he went to her office. He lay down under her desk. He'd told me that she did this. He didn't know why. I didn't ask him why he did it now. We lay on our backs under the desk and saw an inscription.

_Teach us to feel and not to feel. Teach us to be still. _He started laughing. I could tell it wasn't because he thought it was funny. I'm guessing it was because of the irony. He'd started feeling because of her but now he couldn't stop.

"Do you think a billion will be enough?" he asked me after a long silence.

"What?" I could usually figure out what he meant, even when other people couldn't but now I was lost.

"For her to live on," he said. He saw that I was confused when I didn't say anything. "Is a billion dollars enough for her to live on?" he elaborated.

"The woman wears twenty dollar shoes," I said before I could help it, "She'll be okay," I touched his shoulder. He started sobbing. It was painful to listen to. His heaves were so high pitched they sound like screams. Charles never wanted to part with his money, especially to a woman who was walking out the door but he wanted to give Isabella an eighth of his net worth.

"There's so much I should have done differently," he laughed and cried. I just held on to him. I drug him out from under her desk.

"You're going to be okay," I tried to convince him, "I'm not saying it won't hurt. I'm not saying you'll forget her," I wasn't even sure he could even get over her but I didn't want to say that, "But you'll okay." He nodded his head into my chest. We spent the night on the floor. In the morning I called his lawyer to draw up the papers. Joint custody and a billion dollar settlement. He threw himself into his work. He didn't even go home that night. I delivered the papers to Isabella. I was angry at her but I couldn't make her love him.

"It's a good deal," I told her with unrestrained hostility.

"It's ridiculous," she shook her head, "But I'll take it."

She signed the papers and just like that, it was over.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1**

**CPV**

Who the hell could it be at this time of the morning? Aaron hadn't gotten into this kind of trouble for over ten years. I donned my gown and ran to the door before it could wake the boys. The boys, I mused as I made my way down the stairs. Someone else used to call them that once upon a time. I put that thought out of my mind. It had been to long and I had to let go. Life was so ironic.

My angry face melted as soon as I'd opened the doors. It as Bella. She was dressed in a short, tight red dress and heels that made her taller than I'd ever seen her. She collapsed into my arms. "Oh thank God," I could barely hear myself say it. "Thank God you're alive." She just lay on my chest and didn't say anything. I sat down and drew her into my lap. I was too overwhelmed to say anything so we sat in silence.

"Do you want to see the boys?" I asked her with a smile.

"No," she said too loudly, "They can't see me like this." She looked into her lap. After this she said this I really looked at her. When I first met Bella there was no life in her eyes. Now they were dead. Yes, there is a difference. When I first met her it seemed like she had vacated her body and there was nothing left. Now it seemed like death had taken up residence in her body and was looking at me through her eyes. She'd lost way too much weight. She never wore shoes this high and yet she did now. She was not relaxed. When last she was here she was playful, now she steeled her body as if anticipating an attack. She was right, the boys could not see her like this. Unfortunately this was not a problem that could be fixed in a day.

"Where have you been?" I asked her as I pulled her to her feet.

"You don't want to know," she replied as walked to the kitchen. She rummaged in the fridge and in the cupboards before I could tell her that we had no proper food. The boys didn't like "human" food and I did at home much.

"I'll get you something to eat," I told her when the silence had gotten unbearably awkward for me. She didn't seem to mind it. I went to the phone in the lounge.

"This had better be either really good or really bad," Aaron answered in a groggy voice.

"I need you to get me some food," I told him.

"Do I seem like a maid or a housekeeper?" I could hear in his voice that he was about to hang up.

"Bella needs some food," I said to get him to wake up and stay on the line.

"Bella?" he was awake now.

"She's back. Don't bitch in my ear, just go get some food please," I begged.

"Give me fifteen," he said. One part of this equation had just gone right but that was a component of what would go wrong. Aaron had agreed to come over with food for Bella but he would bring an interrogation as well. She looked like that was the last thing she needed. I hoped against hope that he would see this.

I went to sit with her in the kitchen. She didn't say a single word. She kept her eyes on the table and didn't move. I gave her her space. Aaron arrived three minutes before he said he would with fast food. I hoped she still liked it.

"Where have you been?" he dropped the bag in front of her. She breathed slowly and deeply then said something that made no sense to either of us.

"Underground."

"If you were an officer of the law that would fly but you're not," Aaron stated.

"Give her a chance," I whispered to him.

She looked at us with something between a grimace and a smirk. She sighed and then spoke. "I was a prisoner, in a prison that was underground. Will that fly?" she looked up at him from under her lashes in what strongly resembled disinterest but I couldn't believe that. She couldn't say something like that and look completely bored. There was something else though. Her fists were clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white.

"You were kept underground?" he looked at her from the side. I mistook his disbelief for surprise. "Is that the best you can do?"

"Yes," she said in a slightly husky voice. "That's the best I can do. But I fear that only the worst will convince you." She looked at him again from under lashes. It wasn't sexy or alluring. It was a cheeky look with a slight hint of exhaustion.

"Well, do your worst then," he challenged her. This was going south. I wanted to stop it but I wanted to know where she was as well.

"A man," she started, "A rich man, I assume, kidnapped me and kept me underground. I think he kept many more people there. He couldn't have possibly built that place just for me. He beat me, he cut me, he shaved my hair." I noticed when she said it that her hair was shorter. It didn't even reach her shoulders. "For more information, press one," she said before she turned for the stairs. She heard me pick up the bag with the food in it and said, "Not hungry," without even turning around.

Bella spent her first night back home in the bathroom. Aaron stayed over, neither of us slept. The boys were sleeping oblivious to the fact that their mother was home. Our world was about to change. Bella was an f5 tornado. We all knew life would be chaos now that she was.

I saw the man she told us about. I'd seen him many times before but that day was like seeing him for the first time. I would never have thought him capable of such atrocities. I watched him drown in his own blood soon after I'd found out that it was him that hurt her so. His lung was punctured and he died a slow, emasculating death.

My only regret in that moment was that I hadn't killed him myself.

Bella slept in a guest bedroom that night. He twins had taken to sleeping in her room after she'd left. They would be so happy in the morning. We all would be. For one blissful day we'd float around in a pretty little bubble. And too soon, reality would invade.

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	3. Chapter 3

**CPV**

"I need a harder bed," woke me from my state of semi-sleep. "I can't sleep on that thing," Bella was standing next to my bed, fully dressed. Just as I was getting my wits about me she left. Aaron walked into the room as I was trying to decide between waking up and going back to bed.

"I need someone to make my coffee," he said to me, "Your housekeeper needs to come in earlier." He dropped himself right next to my head.

"I'm not taking anymore demands this morning," I replied getting up.

"Any_more_?" he raised one eyebrow.

"Bella wants a harder bed," I undressed for the shower.

"That's original," he headed for the door.

"And make your own damn coffee," I shouted over my shoulder as I stepped into the bathroom. I took a quick shower and went over to the boys' room. She was sitting in a chair by the bed just looking at them. I understood, I could do that all day myself. Only when I saw that the boys were still asleep did I think about how early it was.

I sat next to her. She put her head on my chest and I put my hand around her shoulders. Eli's eyes snapped open and he pinched his brother. For one endless moment everyone in the room was still and silent. "Mommy," Eli jumped into Bella's arms. She wrapped her arms around him and went over to the bed.

"You are heavy," she laughed into his hair. They lay down and the boys wrapped themselves around her. I couldn't resist.

"We missed you," Anthony said into her chest.

"We really missed you," Eli affirmed.

"I missed you too boys. I missed you so much." She sobbed. "But now I'm home." She smiled. "I'm home to stay." She held my hand. She wrapped her little arms tightly around the twins and I wrapped my arms around her. We stayed like this, in silence, for an immeasurable unit of time. I didn't know where Aaron was but I was grateful he gave us this moment.

"Let's go eat breakfast," I said after a long time. I was met by not just two groans but three. "You don't like food?" I asked Bella.

"I don't eat breakfast," she said casually. "What have you guys been doing?" she asked in a more upbeat tone.

"Hiding," Anthony immediately got sulky.

"Hiding?" Bella looked at me.

"Safety first," I shrugged.

"They're going to school this year," she looked me in the eye. She wasn't asking and once an idea like this was out it couldn't be taken back.

"Are you sure that's wise?" I asked. There were no secrets from telepathic beings who could hear pins drop next door.

"No but I prefer that idea to the one where their prisoners in their own home, in their own life," she caressed Anthony's hair. He was smiling. Eli was still enjoying the idea of having his mother home. "If anyone asks we adopted them." She shrugged.

I could get papers that said that anytime I wanted. "We?" I smiled. Eli was snickering. It seemed to be contagious because Anthony joined him.

"They do call me mom," Bella laughed. "And last I checked they called you dad. Adoption's perfect. Nobody asks why I look too young to be their mom or about any other irregularity."

"You realise in order for that to work you'd have to get married, right?" Anthony asked and his brother snickered.

"I understand that would be the best way," Bella pulled Eli into her lap while Anthony climbed onto her back. I got him down. She was too tiny for them to be doing that. "Stop giggling like a girl." She said into his hair.

"Go play somewhere," I put them on the ground one at a time.

"We're too old to play," Anthony didn't want to go anywhere.

"You're too young to be that bold about being nosey," Bella pushed him with her foot. "You can hear us from anywhere in this house." They looked at each other as she said this and shrugged simultaneously. I can never get over these moments. They turned at the same time and left the room with mirror movements. _Now you're just showing off._ They laughed. My boys.

"So… marriage?" I lay back on my side and faced her.

"You've done it a few times. I don't think there's anything I need to explain to you, not even the part where you can sleep with whomever you like," she smiled slightly. That remark was a little out of character but it wasn't false. I've never been a faithful husband.

"So we're getting married?" I asked her.

"Besides the whole being tied down to one person thing, which I understand you have a problem with and won't be a problem now, do you have any aversion to the idea? Because then you'll have to adopt them by yourself and it will seem a little strange that we're living together," she lay down in the same position as I did.

"I uhm," I laughed. I couldn't bring myself to say it.

"You can tell me," she smiled. "I kinda just proposed to you, well Anthony sort of did it for me but you get the idea so you can say just about anything at this moment."

"I was going to propose the same thing before you left," I laughed.

"Nice choice of words," she smiled. "So you've given up the search for love," she laughed.

"I'm too old to be chasing fairies. I'm a practical man." I confirmed.

"The kids will be disappointed," she said jokingly.

"They'll live," I said too loudly. "We can tell Aaron the truth, right?"

"I don't think we have much choice in the matter," she sighed. "The man has an eye for detail. It's annoying." She leaned into my chest as though tired, which, come to think of it, maybe she was.

"So you wanted a new bed," I stroked her hair. She froze for just a second but I didn't miss it. I suppose stroking her hair was a push. "Let's go buy one." I said into the awkward silence.

"Hey kids," she shouted in the passage. She'd been away from them for too long. They materialised out of the blue, "Let's go jump on beds we don't own." They caught on fast. Instead of running ahead as they like to do they hung back to hold hands with their mom.

"What's happening here?" Aaron appeared at the end of the passage.

Eli put his hand up. He'll be perfect at school… before he gets bored of the fifth grade. "Yes, Overeager mutant spawn."

"Mommy and daddy are getting married," the twins jumped up and down.

"It's practical," Bella rolled her eyes and smiled at our children's antics.

"Pick me. Pick me." Anthony jumped up and down. Aaron didn't even have enough left in him for a stupid comment. "Mommy and daddy are going to buy a bed." He said enthusiastically. They're trying to give him a heart attach.

"He's already heard that one," I told them.

"Damn," they said in unison. I didn't bother telling them not to use that word. They were hardly what you'd call children. Aaron just shook his head.

"We're going to sleep on a few beds with hard matrasses." I told him as we were headed out of the door. "You can tell me what a bad idea getting married is when we get back. Come on kids." I opened the door and my family ran into the chilly morning laughing playfully with each other. I waved to an Aaron who still had his mouth open and ran after them. We ended up getting thrown out of every store. Best morning of my life.

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	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I'm a bit of a messy starter and this story is part of a series so I'm very sorry if you're confused. **

**Here's a quick summary: Edward left Bella pregnant. The meeting with Laurent also comes immediately after she finds out. She leaves Forks to save herself and her kids from Victoria. She meets Charles, has the kids and they think they'll live happily ever after until Victoria kills Renee and Phil. Bella goes back to Forks but Charlie dies as well. Victoria is eventually caught by the wolves so Bella can go back to Charles and her children. She meets an obstacle along the way and ends up staying away for almost two years. Finally she finds her way back and this is where this story starts. I hope this clears things up.**

**Moussaieff Red **

"I need a consult," Charles poked his head into my office.

"You're not a doctor," I reminded him, "You haven't been one in a long time."

"Nothing to do with medicine," he came in and closed the door.

"I am not an organiser nor am I a stylist. If you want to know which flowers to use as the centre pices or what to wear to your engagement party ask mentioned professionals," I replied. He just put a little black box on top of my work. "It's beautiful." I said as I pushed it off.

"You know the ring is inside the box you haven't opened, right?" he sat down in front of him.

"I have x-ray vision," I said without looking up. He opened the box and put it under my nose. "A ruby. How original," I pushed it off my work again.

"It's not a ruby," I could see him lean back in his chair in my peripheral vision. I picked up the box and took a closer look at the ring. True to Charles' tastes, it was extravagant. A four or five carat stone, that I now assumed was a diamond, set among clear stones and between two bands that joined into one.

"Tell me this isn't what I think it is," I instructed.

"It isn't what you think it is," he droned, "Provided that you don't think it's the Moussaieff Red Diamond."

"You moron," I looked up at him, "You bought a 7 million dollar diamond for a fake marriage."

"It's not fake. It's just not conventional," he said with a smile.

"Fancy way to say fake," I told him, "Still going against the pre-nup?"

"It's not necessary. She has access to my money regardless," he reminded me of his infinite idiocy.

"And if she takes the money and runs," I asked.

"And leave her kids?" he retorted.

"Wouldn't be the first time." I mumbled looking down.

"That's not fair," he said looking as though I'd personally injured him. It's possible that I had. Isabella had left her kids but seeing as she was trying to protect them from a revenge obsessed blood thirsty vampire. I really wasn't being fair. Now that the vampire in question had been killed by werewolves (God that sounds insane) she probably had no reason to leave.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"I came to brag about buying a rare, expensive stone. Can we get back to the point?" his smile returned.

"You're still a moron," I was glad I'd been forgiven so easily, "A rich, powerful moron but a moron nonetheless."

"Thank you," he picked the box and put it in his pocket. "I'm going to go play with my kids and give their mother a ring. Have fun with your paperwork." Charles could really annoy me sometimes.

"Those of us who make a lousy $2 million a year need to earn our keep." I said. It would be useless to make a face when his back is turned.

"We billionaires, or entitled bastards as you so eloquently put it, get to play," he turned and walked backwards to the door. There's no use in wearing a smug smile unless it can be seen.

"Oh get out," I said and waved him and his smugness out of the room.

There was something very different about Isabella and it wasn't a change for the better but, having been divorced three times, this was Charles' best shot at forever after. Not marrying for love eliminated most causes of divorce. No jealousy, insecurity, falling out of love and all other bullshit associated with falling in love. And it isn't cheating if the rules allow it. This way they got to have their cake and eat it too.

**CPV**

"Can we come?" the boys were waiting at the door when I got home.

"No," I said gently. I didn't want to overwhelm her.

"Good point," Anthony said and dragged his brother towards the door. Telepathy was useful when it wasn't annoying.

"I agree," Eli gave a meaningful look to his brother. These two got on each other's nerves in an angry brotherly sense.

"Go wrestle outside," I opened the door and they disappeared. I closed the door and headed up the stairs. I heard a groan come from her room. When I walked into the room she was under the covers. The next sound out of her throat went straight to my dick. I thought I'd better give her some privacy but I turned right into the door and announced my presence.

"Charles," she emerged.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. I heard…" I couldn't bring myself to finish that sentence.

"I was just riding your sheets," she laughed. "That's not as dirty as it sounds. What's the thread count on these babies?" she asked. I wasn't sure if I was meant to answer. I grabbed the part of my anatomy that was misbehaving and turned around.

"I bought a ring," I announced. She just held out her hand. I placed the box in it and sat down. She sat up but didn't bother pulling the covers. She was in her underwear. I guess modesty is not a quality she possesses anymore. I monitored her reaction in order to distract myself from her mostly exposed breasts. They were not helping the situation in my pants. She looked distraught.

"A ruby?" she exclaimed.

"It's a diamond," I said weakly. What did she have against red stones? Now that I think of it, it was stupid to pick out a ring by myself.

"Oh thank God," she sighed. Looks like it's just against rubies. "I thought you'd blown money on an expensive ring but a red diamond is synthetic, right?" she looked at me like she'd just realised that might actually be true.

"Yeah," I responded. That wasn't a word I frequently used. I was baffled. Why would she want a fake ring?

"It's perfect," she slipped it onto her finger and hugged me, "I thought you'd make me feel guilty by buying me an expensive ring for this fraud of a marriage I've talked you into."

"This isn't a fraud. It's different, yes," I held her closer, almost too close, "And I'd never make you feel guilty."_ Which is why I won't tell you that your ring cost over seven million. _"I'll let you get dressed." I found an escape. I had to tell Aaron to keep his mouth shut.

"It's beautiful," she said before slipping back under the covers and 'riding my sheets'. God I need to get my brain out of this haze. I bumped into Aaron after I closed her door.

"What did you do?" he asked me in an accusatory tone. "You've got an erection," he elaborated when I raised my brows.

"That's a sign that I didn't do anything" I couldn't help but remark, "She's half-naked and moaning. I'm a red-blooded man.

"Don't shit where you eat," he said. I dragged him away from her room, "You're going to spend the rest of your life with her, even if it's not romantic. If you start sleeping with her now pretty soon it's gonna end with one of you guilty and the other mad as hell. I've never known you to be anything other than the guilty party."

"I'm not going to sleep with her so I don't need this lecture," I said. We stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "What I do need is a confirmation from you that you won't tell her about the ring."

"You want it to be a surprise?" he frowned.

"I want her to never know. She thinks the diamond is synthetic and she's happy believing that," I explained.

"You brought a stone worth $7 mil and a setting that cost at least a fifth of a million and you don't want her to know that?" his frown deepened.

"I think you've got it," I patted his shoulder patronizingly.

"Why?" he was thoroughly confused.

"She doesn't want an expensive ring. Don't ask me to explain her preferences," I said looking over my shoulder. I wanted this conversation over.

"Now you look like a cheap moron," he said as I dragged him outside.

"I feel like a deceitful moron," I replied. We got outside and I called to the boys.

"Mom's strange," Anthony appeared at my side.

Eli, Aaron and I made sounds of agreement.

"Let's go roll in the grass," Eli, who was a child in more ways than his brother, suggested.

"I remember too vividly how badly I itched the last time," Aaron responded.

"You're such a baby," Anthony rolled his eyes at his brother.

"Let's go help your mother and the stylist pick out a dress for the engagement party." I said with too much cheer. There was no stopping a superhuman fistfight once it started.

"The stylist won't be here for fifteen minutes," Anthony pointed out.

"Then we'll sit out here and talk," I said sitting down.

"Mom's new ID doesn't have her real age or her real last name," Eli looked questioningly at me.

"I'm an old man."

"Thirty six is hardly old," Eli interrupted.

"It is when you compare it to almost twenty," I replied.

"The number your father is avoiding mentioning is _nineteen_," Aaron contributed.

"She's closer to twenty than to nineteen," I said, "Anyway society will frown upon my marrying such a young person so she raised her age by four years and her last name to cover up the irregularity," I explained.

"Is that legal?" Anthony asked.

"All women lie about their age," I deflected. "Stylist's here." Then the longest hour of my life began. We sat and watched the dress parade.

"It's too cheeky," the stylist shook his head at one dress.

"He means I look like a prostitute," Bella explained to my puzzled expression. "It's not playful enough," he said at another.

"I'm twenty four," her lying skills had improved greatly, "Anymore playful and I'll be in grade school." She had a point there. "I'm done," she said after an hour of not finding the perfect dress. "I can't do this anymore today." She left the room.

"I'm going to go talk to your irritated mother," I said to the boys.

"We'll go play chess," they went to their room. Aaron went home, luckily without a comment.

"Bella," I said to warn her of my approach.

"Please don't call me that," she said from the couch.

"It's your name," I said, perplexed.

"Not anymore," she replied.

"Isabella," I tried.

"Yes," she peeked at me from behind a cushion.

"I know it's tiring," was all I had the chance to say.

"Did you try on twenty dresses without success?" she put her head back.

"I assume it's tiring. We can do it another time." I sat down beside her.

"I'm being difficult and ungrateful," she sighed.

"You're tired," I wrapped my arms around her shoulder. "Can you sleep on the new bed?"

"Sure," she replied, her head dropping into my chest. It was too early in our marriage for me to know when she said sure she meant no. she fell asleep on my chest. I lay back and pulled her on top of me. I was breathing in the wonderful smell of her hair and admiring how perfectly the ring suited her when sleep overtook me. That's how I started sleeping with Isabella. It was perfectly innocent then.

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	5. Chapter 5

**CPV**

I wake up in the middle of the night. We've been wrapped in a blanket. I want to turn on the lights but I don't want to move and wake Isabella. The name feels a little strange. I opt for turning on the tv and holding down the mute button. It casts enough light for me to see Anthony and Eli sitting on the table watching us. "It's nine thirty," Anthony whispers.

"It's creepy to watch people sleep, especially in the dark," I tell them. Eli turns on the lights and Bella jumps to her feet. Her knees are bent and her hands are slightly raised at her sides. It's a stance people assume when they need balance or are anticipating an attack. Two years ago I would have immediately assumed the former. Now I can't be sure.

"You were watching us sleep," she observed straightening up. "It would be cute if you were the parents. Now it's a little creepy." The twins smile at me. They seem to find it amusing that we feel the same way about this. Bel- Isabella looks at the clock. "Isn't it past your bedtime?" she asks the boys.

"We have a bedtime?" They look at me.

"You do now," I smile at their grimacing little faces. "Shoo." I wave them off.

"Kiss," Isabella leans over.

"Stand up straight please," Eli says. Their mother doesn't understand but complies. They spring into the air and kiss her on the cheeks simultaneously. They love to show off. I wonder who they take after. Eli points at me behind his back. Bella giggles.

"Neat trick. Now go to bed. You start school soon so its good practice." She wrapped the blanket around herself.

"What grade are we going to be in?" Anthony asked.

"Seventh," Isabella answered, "You look a little young for it but you'll look the part by the time you're seniors."

"You've really thought about this," Anthony makes an observation I'm not entirely sure he meant to make out loud.

"I'll ignore the insulting level of surprise in your voice," she responds, "Goodnight." Anthony walks up the stairs with more enthusiasm than anyone has when their going to sleep. Since we live a good mile away from any other people I'm not worried. Eli kissed his mother's cheek again. This time he did it upside down. "Apparently showing off isn't genetic. It's a learned behaviour." She remarks. I hear a faint laugh as Eli breezes out of the room.

"Would you like to sleep with me?" Isabella asks leaning over me. I blink rapidly trying to make different sense of this statement. "I haven't slept like that in a long time." Of course, I knew there had to be another meaning.

"I'd love to sleep with you," I joke. Then I realise there's more truth to that statement than I thought. We laugh about it briefly on our way up the stairs. I stand around like an idiot because I don't know whose room we're going to sleep in.

"Your bed is too soft," she informs me, opening her door. I walk in after her. "You're not going to change?" she asks removing the dress I now find it hard to believe she slept in.

"I um," I don't know how to tell her I just sleep in my underwear.

"I stole your t-shirt," she says while her hands go behind her body and up her back. She undoes her bra and I have no idea where to look. I decide to take a cue from her and start taking off my clothes. I concentrate on my buttons. Once we're done I climb into bed and lie on my back. She slides in and places her head on my chest. Her body is close to mine and I can feel the heat of her skin. This is the hardest bed I've ever slept on and I have no idea why she'd prefer it but that's not what keeps me from sleeping that night.

We turned out the lights. "Why don't you have a girlfriend?" she asks curling her hand around my chest and making herself comfortable, "Or a real wife?"

"I've had three real wives and three failed marriages. I never said I don't have a girlfriend," I answer.

"What does she think of you marrying someone else?" she asks.

"She once said the best thing about me was my wife," I respond. "Why don't you want a real boyfriend or husband?" I ask.

"Love isn't for me and my life is just too complicated," she doesn't feel the need to explain. I understand. Kindle never wanted too much of a relationship so it didn't matter that I had secrets. "What's her name?" her words are coming slower.

"Kindle," I tell her. This is a little strange, talking to my fiancé about my girlfriend.

"Is she a stripper?" Isabella asks sleepily.

"No, why would you think that?" I'm curios.

"When you say Kindle I imagine a tall blond with big, fake boobs that only answers to that name after ten," she explains.

"She's a tall blond with big, real boobs and she answers to that name all day," I tell her about Kindle.

"I'm not staying at the party past ten. I can only take snobbery in small doses," she yawns. I chuckle a little and nod my head. Tomorrow she's getting introduced to the world as my fiancé, two weeks from then my wife. Can you say shotgun wedding?

"Goodnight Isabella," I kiss her hair before I know what I'm doing. She seems to be too far gone to notice. She mumbles her response into my chest and falls asleep. I close my eyes and concentrate on the sound of my breathing. When I think this might actually work her leg slides up and wraps itself around both of mine. I can feel her hot core on my leg. There is no sleep to be had. After a long time she slides it down and turns over. Her hand reaches back and pulls me over to her like a blanket. I comply. She lies with her back to me and in wriggling around to get comfortable she keeps brushing her ass across my dick. I think she's purposefully torturing me.

I wrap my arms around her and she presses herself even harder into me. Before my brain starts functioning again I grind into her. The guilt is instant. She's asleep and barely legal. I let go of her and extricated myself from her grip. It would be better if I kept to my side of the bed. Not that a painful erection is conducive to sleep. Isabella starts fidgeting and she doesn't stop.

"Stop," she says pushing the blanket weakly. Even from the other side of the bed I am alarmed. "Stop it Cain. Please." She talks louder and moves more vigorously.

"Isabella," I rush to her side and shake her.

"Cain please," she pushes me away. I shake her harder. Her eyes snap open and she stays very still. "Charles," she says with obvious relief.

"It's okay. It's me," I reassured her.

"What did I say?" she said with a level of apprehension.

"Cain-"

"Don't wanna know," she cut me off.

"You can talk to me," I told her.

"You don't need these nightmares and I don't need this conversation. Just hold me please," she closed her eyes, "I sleep better that way."

"I'm going to the bathroom. Be back in a sec." I slid out of bed and hoped she wouldn't turn on the light. She didn't need me creeping her out. She didn't see me that way. It was painfully obvious. When a woman thinks nothing of stripping down to her panties in front of you she sees you as a brother. At my age, maybe she thinks of me as a father figure. I am closer to Charlie's age than hers. I inflict a sufficient amount of pain on myself to kill the erection and go back to bed.

"When you're ready," I whisper in her ear, "I'll be here."

"I know," she whispers back, "I wonder if you'll be ready." I don't respond. There's no right way to respond to that. I hold her tightly and take comfort in the fact that this helps her sleep. Isabella was not patient anymore. She was short with people she did not know. Tomorrow would be a long day for her. She needed all the rest she could get.

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	6. Chapter 6

**The Introduction**

**CPV**

"We're going to be late," Aaron complained.

"You don't have to wait," I reminded him. If it weren't a joke it would have been cruel. Aaron was family and he wasn't going to leave without us. Anthony and Eli were waltzing.

"Kids whatever age you're supposed to be can't dance like that. Kids of your real age can't dance period." Aaron told them.

"We don't look thirteen," Anthony straightened his tux. This was the age Isabella had decided they should be.

"Close enough," his brother bumped him.

"We look like undertakers," Anthony pushed his brother.

"It's cool, right?" Eli kicked him. The conversation and the interaction were two separate things. One of which had to be stopped if we were to get to the party on time or at all.

"You two sit down," I told them. Of course they'd already followed this instruction by the time I turned to look at them.

"You might want to sit down," Anthony said to me as he swung his feet from the sofa. We were waiting for Isabella to come down the stairs. "You're wearing a hole in the carpet."

"Zip it," I said sticking my fingers together.

"Really," Eli spoke for his brother, "The fibres are-"

"You too," I clamped my fingers shut in his face.

"You're not doing that to me," Aaron said.

"I would if you'd listen," I said a little loudly. We heard footsteps and headed for the stairs. I waved the boys over and we waited at the bottom. Isabella stood with one hand on the rail and the other clutching a purse on her hip. She was in a strapless ice-blue dress that had its hemline above the knees. It was short enough to be very sexy without being tasteless. She wore silver heels and carried a clutch purse that sparkled. Her hair was down and loosely curled. Her skin was radiant alabaster. She didn't go with the fake tan, good. Her make-up was minimal. Natural always looked good on her. The only jewellery she wore was a clear oblong diamond on a thin white gold chain. It rested where her breasts came together. I was speechless.

She smiled and raised her left eyebrow at me. "You look… good," I managed to get out. She walked down the stairs deliberately.

"I had my pubic hair ripped out by the roots today," she said in a tone that belied her words, "You can do better than that." The kids shut their ears in vain.

"His gaping mouth and lack of speech are the best compliments he can give," Aaron said.

"True," she smiled at him, "What are you two doing?" she laughed at the boys. They were gesturing wildly, covering their throats then mouths and then waving their hands.

"Talk," I permitted. They stopped gesturing but said nothing.

"Thank you," she bent over and kissed them. I must be missing something.

"They're speechless," Aaron said shaking his head. "And we're late."

"Hey foster kids," she said walking to the door, "The rich man adopted you from some dying woman his friend couldn't save from some heart thing," she waved her hand, "because you were so cute," she turned and put her hand on her heart. "The trophy wife can't have kids." I consider the possibility of this being true. I'd never thought of it. "It doesn't seem viable for a gal my age to adopt," Then I consider the possibility of it being fictitious like the rest of this story, "So make up a cute but touching story about how you met him and he met your mother et cetera." She put her hand back on her hip. "We _are_ _late_, you know?" she said when we made no move to leave, "Unless you want to skip the party, which I'm all for."

"Let's go," I pushed Aaron toward the door before that statements can become serious. He's going in his own limo, not because he feels like a fifth wheel but because he thinks it makes us look more like a family. I don't agree but Aaron is a stubborn man. He made it to the party before we did. I don't know how his driver avoids getting tickets. The man drives like a bat out of Hell. The kids' presence gave Isabella the perfect excuse to leave as early as possible and meet as few people as possible. I didn't tell her they'd disappear as soon as she'd smiled at the first guest. They hadn't had any social interaction with the world and tonight was their debut. My poor guests.

I watched Isabella interacting with our guests. She was different from the person I knew. She laughed and smiled at the appropriate intervals. She was all politeness and appropriate interest. Maybe she'd been an actor for the past two years. She had a double whiskey, neat. Bold drink. Startling for me as I'd never seen her consume alcohol. She didn't touch anything else for the rest of the night, not food nor drink. Isabella had a problem eating in front of people. She didn't eat breakfast, avoided having lunch with me and barely ate at dinner. I'd think she wasn't eating but she'd gained some flesh since her arrival. She said she'd tell me when she was ready, I'd have to wait for that.

"How's she doing?" Aaron came up behind me as I watched Isabella from the bar.

"She's doing great," I answered. Aaron watched everything. He wasn't curious about how she was doing. I'm sure he knew.

"Have you noticed anything different about her?" he asked.

"Is that a joke?" I asked without looking at him, "She's like another person."

"Another new person," he said. I looked at him questioningly. "The person living in your house is not the person who was there two years ago. _She_ takes her whiskey neat." He pointed at her.

"I'm not blind Aaron and, contrary to your opinion, I'm not stupid," I said. "Congressman Blithe," I extended my hand to the man approaching us. He was not my favourite person in the world and just had to be late. He was very competitive. Rubbing my beautiful fiancé in his face was not something I would pass up. Aaron turned a scoff into a laugh. "Come meet my fiancé," I said as we shook hands.

"I hear she's gorgeous," he said as we started walking. Aaron stayed at the bar. He had a much simpler approach to people he didn't like. It didn't involve socialising with them.

"Believe the hype," I said as came up behind her. I didn't tell him to stop looking at her ass. He was never getting near it.

"Isabella," she turned from the people she was presently speaking to, "I'd like to introduce you to Congressman Blithe," I turned to look at him, "Congressman," he looked pale.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Isabella said with a small laugh. He really did.

"Do I?" he asked with a smooth smile. "I thought you were someone else." He admitted when he saw how sceptically we looked at his incredulity.

"I'm not a ghost," she reassured him with a smile, "Isabella King." She offered him a hand.

"Christian Blithe," he shook it, out of character for him. Whoever she reminds him of must scare him.

"Christian," she smiled, "How appropriate." She joked. "Honey, could you get me another drink please?" I nodded. She was so friendly to everyone tonight, it was unnatural. "Double whiskey, neat." I thought she'd change it because she had an audience but she didn't. I went over to Aaron and we watched as Isabella dazzled yet another poor sap.

"So you're happy your wife is smiling at the slime-ball?" he said as I waited for the drink.

"You're like the kid that punches the kid he doesn't like in the face on the playground. Me, on the other hand, I'm the kid who buys a bicycle and doesn't let him ride it," I explained, "I get revenge and avoid detention."

"You know she's also allowed to sleep with whomever she wants, right?" he looked at me out of the corner of his eye.

"She'd never sleep with him. There's something creepy about him that can be seen a mile away," I replied. There really was something creepy about him. I got her drink and turned to leave. Aaron decided to come with me. Isabella was standing with her back to us. Her hands were behind her back and one of them was holding her elbow, the index of the other hand was curled under her hem. It was a little distracting.

I could hear by the sound of her voice that Isabella was smiling. God help me if she's flirting with him. What she said next assured me that she wasn't. It also made Aaron look at me and raise his brows. Blithe had his colour back and then some.

"You can run but you'll just die tired." She shook her head a little as she said it.

"What are we talking about?" I asked as I went around her. Aaron shook his head a little at me. Apparently he wanted to see how this conversation would have gone without us.

"The proper procedure for dealing with ghosts," Isabella took her drink. "I'll drink to your health Chris." She raised her glass and smiled. He raised his glass and departed.

"How'd you scare him?" Aaron asked her.

"Aaron," I shot him a look.

"I reminded him that karma's a bitch. I don't know who he thought I was but a man who turns that white at the sight of a person who doesn't look threatening is guilty of something," she answered as if I hadn't spoken. She was even more observant now than I remembered her.

"Ride on," Aaron raised his glass to her and she chuckled a little.

"I want to go home," she said sliding towards me.

"We're calling it a night," I told Aaron.

"Where are my children?" she asked me. We found them in the kitchen. They preferred the workers to the guests at this party. It wasn't surprising. The workers liked them too. They were in their own little uniforms. They talked about the people they met all the way home. And then they talked about them all the way to bed. Isabella was more interested in their company than her own.

She had two more whiskeys before we went to bed. "I'd need a drink too after being that nice to those people," I joked as I sat with her.

"I need crack," she joked back, "But the laws of America prohibit it. We went to bed at a reasonable hour and the night passed without a word of Cain or anything else unsavoury. It had gone well, Isabella's introduction to New York's upper class society.

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	7. Chapter 7

**The Introduction**

**BPV**

I stood in front of the mirror and breathed deeply. I had no doubts about what I was about to do. This social interaction was always staged. I wouldn't be the only actor there. This would be easy and that scared me. The fact that I could make any path my course just made me feel more lost. I walked to the stairs and waited with my hand on the rail. Charles told me I looked good. Was he fucking with me right now? I was still pink from that damn wax. Maybe I shared a little too much information about that.

Aaron didn't ride with us to the party. I felt a little relieved. I'm too damaged to live under a microscope. I was bonding with my children again, I was marrying a man for something better than romance. Something that would not fade or get corrupted. Charles was the most real man I'd ever met. He was reliable without being boring. He was thirty six, so what? I was at least seventy five. My children were the only good thing to come out of the train-wreck that is my life, my body, me. I hoped I didn't have poison in my blood or that at the very least it was not hereditary.

We got to the party, then the real work began. I had to be sufficiently interested in everything from the latest diet to a leak in an oil well. Isolation hadn't done much for my general knowledge. When in doubt, make a joke. When tired of talking, talk to someone who's drunk even if their just a little drunk, you won't have to say a lot. After an hour of this bullshit, I needed a drink. Wherever the kids were I'm sure they were having more fun than I was.

I got a double whiskey, neat. I don't dress up my liquor. Aaron was watching me, so was Charles. Maybe it's contagious. They could watch. I had no intention of getting drunk tonight. I liked the taste in my mouth so I didn't drink anything else. I didn't eat in front of people, it would raise too many questions. Charles worried about it but he'd satisfied himself that I was eating and not anorexic or anything of the like.

I was pretending to listen to someone who was pretending to care about children dying of cancer. This may as well be a masked ball. We were all hiding behind righteous causes and light humour. I played with my ring, a habit I'd picked up pretty fast.

"Isabella," Charles saved me. I bid a quick farewell and turned to the next pretender. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. "I'd like you to meet Congressman Blithe." He said. I had never met Congressman Blithe but I certainly knew Liam Kenneth. We just looked at each other. By the pallor of his skin I'd say he wasn't thinking about the odds of seeing me again, maybe the repercussions. "Congressman," Charles didn't look concerned, he looked curious. You could tell by his body language that he didn't like him. _Curiosity killed the cat, Charles_.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," I laughed. I was sifting through the possibilities.

"Do I?" he smiled back. _Let's play Congressman_. "I thought you were someone else." He said when he saw the looks he was getting.

"I'm not a ghost," I told him. _I'm real, as much as you might wish otherwise._ "Isabella King," I offered him my hand. I wanted to wipe it before he'd touched it.

"Christian Blithe," he wrapped his hand around mine. He barely gripped it. I curled my left hand into a tight fist. I loosened it with a little effort. Aaron was somewhere in this room. The children were not. I hope they're distracted.

"Christian," I smiled, "How appropriate," I said. Anyone else would have thought it a political joke. He knew better. Even if he'd used his real name I never would have thought it was real. "Honey, could you get me another drink please?" I asked Charles. He nodded but made no move to leave. He was pretending not to have seen me for whatever reason. "Double whiskey, neat." I told him. _Run Forrest_.

"What do you want?" he asked when he was sure Charles was out of earshot.

"What you took from me," I smiled at him. _Damn you Aaron for being a fucking hawk. I'd enjoy this so much more if you turned your head. _

"What's that?" he was looking around a little too much.

"Everything," I stepped between him and Aaron, turning my back to the latter.

"Can't let you do that to me." he was gaining his confidence. I'm going to love watching that evaporate.

"Good," I played with my necklace. "It's more fun when you struggle. I'm going to give you the night to see the error of your ways then your family six weeks to say goodbye. Then I'm coming for your head." I could tell he was thinking of a way out. There was no way out. "Oh and Christian, you can run but you'll just die tired."

"What are we talking about?" Charles asked as he handed me the drink.

"The proper procedure for dealing with ghosts," I took it. "I'll drink to your health Chris," I raised my glass at him. He raised his glass and walked away. He was going to tell them. All of them. It was time for me to go collect my insurance and my game. Life just got interesting.

"How'd you scare him?" the Observer asked.

Charles tried to shut him up. I'd look far guiltier if I let him come to my aid now. "I reminded him that karma's a bitch. I don't know who he thought I was but a man who turns white at the sight of a person who doesn't look threatening is guilty of something," I could see that this made sense to him. Stay as close to the truth as possible. Aaron cheered me on. I wonder how he'd feel if he knew the whole truth.

I'd had as much as I could take from this party. I told Charles that I wanted to go home and he was understanding, as always. Charles was a good man. I hadn't known many of those, even when I thought I had. We looked around for the kids and we found them in the kitchen. They 'd had more fun than us, that was obvious. They talked about everyone they'd met tonight. Pretty exciting first night. I was in no mood to talk of my company.

I had two more double whiskeys. That should keep the nightmares at bay. I curled myself on my side and Charles curled himself around me. I'd been introduced to him for the second in my life. This time the roles were reverse but the theme was much the same; Destruction.

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	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Don't let me lose you on this one. This chapter is a dual point of view. Charles point of view is in BOLD, Bella's point of view is in **_Italics._** This is probably a bad idea and might confuse people but nothing else was working.**

**C **and _B _POV

**Two weeks before our wedding and Isabella wanted to pick out the help instead of the centre pieces. She said this is what we should be invested in. The wedding was a single passing day but the help would stick around. It made sense. The people who spent time in our house had to be carefully selected.**

_Staffing. Fun, fun. Most of it was going through the motions. The kitchen staff would never see the rest of this house. My kids needed whatever freedom they could still get in here. I just needed one person I could trust. They'd never know shit about my babies. They just had to know a little about me. A few blind details that no one would ever truly understand but they needed to be kept secret regardless. _

**Maria Morales, too young.**

_Maria Morales, too young._

**Who says no to benefits? Illegal immigrants.**

_Illegal. Now we're getting somewhere. Still, it's hard to trust someone who's twenty two. Let's see how trustworthy you are, "I find it impossible to get to know a person in such a formal environment. Let's go for drinks," I offer. My soon to be husband looked at me out of the corner of his eye. Charles is eager to see the best in people but he's not blind. I smile reassuringly at him._

**Isabella is sold on Maria. I suppose if you think about it having a person with something to lose is the best way to keep a secret. Drinks though?**

"_I know this bar in Brooklyn," I said. Being poor teaches you the great divide between rich and poor. The literal one. It would be creepy to offer her a new outfit so I had to invite her to a place where they'd let her in and not look at her funny. I also needed to know that there was no bias when they threw her out. Now all I had to do was find a bar in Brooklyn._

**Drinks in Brooklyn. What's she trying to pull? She's never even been to Brooklyn, as far as I know. Maybe I don't know far enough.**

"_That would be lovely, thank you." Maria smiled. Lovely? This girl needs to get to know me. _

**After that thank you I wasn't sure that Maria was the Brooklyn kind of girl. They exchanged numbers and smiles.**

_I knew that smile. That's the "What exactly do you want from me?" smile. When a person who isn't a friend wants to buy you a drink, they want something. Maria knew this. She also knew that New York's rich and famous avoided Brooklyn, especially Brooklyn's drunk citizens. Don't worry Maria, I don't bite. At least I promise not to bite you._

"_See you at nine thirty," I smile back. Maria bids us farewell and leaves. She knows I want more than a maid. An agreement for drinks is a sign of willingness._

"**You've been to Brooklyn?" I asked. **

"**No but there's only so much snobbery Maria and I can take," she answered. **

"**Maria?" I smiled. First name. Maybe she'd take her. She'd shot down a lot of people. I can't wait for this to be over.**

"**Yes, Maria," she smiled. I looked down at the Maria's documents.**

"**You might want to call her back and ask for her address. She left a P.O. Box," I said.**

_Maria, Maria. Why don't you want us to know where you live? "You have a PI on speed dial," I reminded him._

"_How do you know I have a Private Investigator on my speed dial?" he asked, surprised._

"_If you want to get to know someone. Really get to know them," I told him, "You go through their trash, their phone and their refrigerator. See, you'd never mention in a conversation that you don't speak to your father. Your phone told me." _

**I'm marrying Aaron. "What did my trash tell you?" I asked.**

"**That the booze is purely for decorative purposes. There'd be bottles in there if you drank." She smiled. I like this Isabella. She talks to me.**

"**The fridge?" I probed. **

"**That you never eat at home." She answered, "You didn't even have eggs." She didn't mention the day she made this observation. We never spoke of it. My refrigerator was better stocked now. Maybe it'll tell me what Isabella eats.**

"**Maybe I should talk to your trash, fridge and phone," I thought out loud.**

"**There aren't many interesting things there. My useless phone has your number and Aaron's, now Maria's. There isn't a single dialled number. No speed dials. The phonebook only contains three numbers. The trash would tell you that I can't have kids, if you asked nicely enough." I couldn't help the dumb expression on my face.**

"**How could I get that from trash?" I blurted out.**

"**No tampon boxes. That would imply pregnancy but I haven't had sex in…" she took a deep breath. That made me wonder how long it had been. Maybe she'd never done it again after the fateful first time. It would explain why she wouldn't talk about it and why she seemed content with sleeping with a half naked man wearing only a t-shirt herself. "And the fridge would tell you that I eat an unhealthy amount of eggs and bacon. It would tell you that I do eat cereal, just not in the morning."**

"**When else would you eat cereal?" I blurted again. **

"**After supper," she shrugged. **

"**Would you like to have lunch with me?" I asked when I saw the time. She immediately became apprehensive. "Bacon and eggs." I offered. "We can make them together." I added when I remembered she doesn't eat in front of anybody. **

"**Charles," she looked at me sadly.**

"**Please, I just want to share one meal with you," I told her. I don't know why that was so important. The only person I ever ate with was Aaron. For some reason I wanted to share a meal with Isabella. I'd think it's because I'm marrying her but I never really ate with my wives. Aaron's gonna get a kick out of analysing this one. **

"**The bacon needs defrosting," she sighed. "The idiot that packed the groceries away put the bulk packages in freezer."**

"**I thought you**__**packed them," I said.**

"**I did," she smiled. "You can do the eggs. I like mine well done."**

_I defrosted some bacon and Charles fried some eggs. I thought he was just curious but seeing him smiling and humming to himself while he made eggs told me otherwise. I fried ten strips of bacon. Charles was in good shape, he couldn't eat more than three strips. "Okay?" he showed me the eggs._

"_I want them bone dry Charles," I told him. He said okay and went back to his humming. He had a beautiful bass. I took my pan off the heat and caught him around the waist. I put my ear on his chest, "Don't stop." I requested._

"_Stop what?" he said in a confused voice._

"_Humming, you have a beautiful voice. Sing something," I said. He put his arm around me and started singing. It was a beautiful song that made his chest rumble in my ear. He put his arms around me and started swaying side to side. Dancing for me was filled with bad memories of either the person or the act. This would be a good one. A simple dance with a good man. I tightened my arms around him as he brushed my hair. I felt his ear on the top of my head. He smelled like dirt. Clean, exposed Earth. I'd smelled enough cologne to last me forever and a day. This was new, and welcome._

_The song ended. "Don't burn the eggs," I warned him. He turned the stove off. I took a plate and brought it to the stove. I started putting scrambled eggs in it and he followed my lead. He took six strips of bacon. I wasn't having that. I took three of them off his plate with my hand as he watched with his mouth open._

**She stuffed the last one in her mouth. She ate them fast so I couldn't get them. "I won't interfere with you and your bacon again," I assured her. She just kept on eating at the speed of light. "I swear. I'm not gonna grab it off your plate."**

"**I know," she said and moved on to the eggs. Before I had thought of anything to say she was finished. She opened the refrigerator and took out a 500 ml bottle of juice. She opened it and drank the whole thing. "Eating with me isn't much of an event," she said as she put the pans in the sink and opened the tap.**

"**Why do you eat like that?" I asked. I started eating too. It just felt weird not to. **

"**Training," she let out a little hysterical laugh that alerted me that I was missing something. "No matter how hard I try I can't eat any other way and it freaks people out."**

"**I'm not freaked out," I said. I wasn't entirely sure if that was true but it was reassuring.**

"**Sure, that's why you didn't eat," she pointed out. I would have told her someone else could wash up but I knew better than that. She ate my last strip of bacon and all my eggs. "I don't think you even know how to without a fork and knife." She smiled. I stood there like an idiot. I'd been eating with utensils ever since I could chew. "Stop looking like I just said you don't have a driver's licence. You eat as you should. I'm the strange one here. I think this is a strangeness I can't part with."**

"**Can't I eat one meal with you? One where you actually eat, please." I pleaded.**

"**Why?" she asked. Good question. **

"**I don't know," I answered honestly. I just like spending time with you. It's why my girlfriend is so pissed. I don't say it out loud. **

"**Fine, no utensils. I hate the sound of forks and knives on stone-wear." She explained.**

_Never said that one out loud before. Shit, this is what I hate about being comfortable with people. You let something small slip, sooner or later it becomes something big._

"**Deal," I agreed before whatever she was thinking made her change her mind. "You sit through dinner everyday. Why did you never tell me that you don't like the sound?"**

"**What use would that be?" she asked. "You can't not use silver and if you can then Aaron can't."**

"**You never know," I reply. It's a long shot but we don't know how he'd take it.**

"**His to-do list is broken down in hours and then alphabetically," she pointed out.**

"**You looked at his diary?" I was confused. When does she do all these things? **

"**Yes and that's beside the current point," she answered. **

"**Let's have dinner together, just the two of us. I have lunch with Aaron everyday. I'm sure he won't mind," I propose.**

_I don't know why in the world he's drop his best friend to have dinner with me but I don't want to ask. "Sounds fair," I reply, "Go have lunch with Aaron. You haven't eaten anyway. Don't mention this, please." It's not a word I use frequently for its real purpose. "I don't need him analysing me," I explain._

"**I won't say a word," I promise. She walks me to the door. **

"**I need a car," she tells me. "I don't want to be driven for you everywhere." She continues. **

"**We'll go buy one tomorrow," I'm suddenly excited. If she wanted one of the cars in the garage she'd take it.**

"**Okay," she rolls her eyes. "I'm taking a cab tonight. I might be out late so don't wait up." I'm worried already. "You should take the boys, I'll be going through applications and then looking for an address then a bar. They'll be bored." We called out for them a few times. They were distracted by a game of chess. **

_The splinter in Eli's hair begs to differ but whatever they tore apart I'm sure they'll put together. They ran off to the car. They get excited about being out in public. Even if they're in a car. I understand. The knowledge that I can go wherever I want is essential to my sanity, even if I don't exercise it that often._

"**Goodbye," I say. She says it back then kisses my cheek. **

"**Sorry. It felt… appropriate," she quickly moves away. **

"**I understand," I assure her. I don't but my brain is fuzzy. I feel like my cheek's on fire. She closes the door to end the awkward moment. **

_I slid down the closed door and sat on the floor. Have I completely lost my mind?_

**I walked to the car blinking rapidly as if it's my eyes that were fuzzy rather than my mind. "You're blushing," the twins giggle as I get into the car. They can't be serious.**

"**Old men don't blush. Don't reply," I say when I see Eli open his mouth, "Don't talk." I slide down the chair. Lunch with Aaron is a good idea. Maybe he can shed some light on… this. And possibly give it a name. The boys giggle and snicker all the way to the restaurant where Aaron was probably looking at his watch.**

**AN: My therapist inspired me to write this story, my ego inspired me to publish it. Evidence proves that my ego is not the best person to go to for advice. If you want to read it, give me some feedback.**


	9. Chapter 9

**CPV **

Aaron was pissed I was late. Big surprise. I slipped the boys a hundred each and told them to go play somewhere.

"Where?" they asked.

"You choose," I said, "You're starting school soon. I won't be there to tell you not to laugh at what people are thinking, take your desk apart or do anything more too advanced for thirteen year old. This is a lesson in responsibility. The only thing I ever want to tell you not to do from now on is look down a girl's top or up her skirt."

"He should have to tell you that at least twice a day," Aaron said with a smile.

"You are the dirtiest Christian I know," I said after I waved them off.

"And only God can judge me," he pulled out his Star of David. I'm not confused. He believes in God, all of him. He's mostly Christian but preferred the Star to the cross. He celebrated anything from Christmas to Diwali, whichever took his fancy. Imagine the time I pitched up for Hanukkah with a tree.

"She kissed me," I blurted.

"I'm listening," he looked up.

"I sang to her in the kitchen, we danced, we talked," I sighed. I was making a mountain out of a molehill. "Okay, it sounds like nothing now. She kissed me on the cheek anyway."

"It's something," he said as our meals arrived. Aaron had given the chef a two week menu.

"Really?" I asked, he'd thought less of sex.

"Not what you did," he waved his fork. "The fact that you think it's something makes it something." He put his fork down then put his right fist into his left hand with his elbows on the table. Interrogation coming up. "What is this?" he asked. A little broad for him.

"What is what, exactly?" I asked.

"This thing you have for her? Thrill of the hunt? Curiosity? Routine?" he held his stance.

"Routine?" it was hardly that.

"You tend to sleep with the women you marry," he shrugged.

"I don't wanna sleep with her. Okay, I do, but…" I am so confused.

"But that's not the main attraction," he sighed.

"Yes," for once he put something like I wanted to.

"Oh you idiot," he shook his head, "Next you'll be telling me she's different."

"She is," I wasn't even speaking to him anymore.

"And by next I meant three months from now," he parted his hands and clamped them back together hard. "You can't do this Charles."

"What do you mean?" I asked. He was killing it.

"You have three failed marriages. The only collateral damage was paper, except that one time. You wife to be has a dark side that I can see for days. She will never touch you now because you're the guy who's too good to be true. If you pursue this and it goes south, you're more than the guy who broke her heart, you're the guy who ruined the only family she has left," he looked me in the eye the entire time. "I'm not even going to mention the kids."

"Maybe it won't go south," I said.

"You're a romantic now?" he gave me the look, that look. The one that says 'you're an idiot' and 'you're not serious' all at the same time.

"Maybe I won't break her heart," I responded.

"Do you even know how many women hate you in the New York alone?" he raised his eyebrows. "You're a heartbreaker Charles. It's part of your genetic make-up."

"She does not have a dark side," of this I was sure.

"She can listen to the most heartbreaking story and not blink yet she flinches at the name of God. She has a dark side," he stabbed his food.

"Stop analysing her," I stabbed my food.

"It's a little hard not to when you ask," he said in a sing song voice.

"You really are a dream killer," I sulked.

"I know," he looked down.

"I'm going home. I'll have your words on my mind so could you wait here for the boys and keep them entertained for a few hours. They don't need to hear what you said about either of their parents," I'd suddenly lost my appetite.

"They'll be home at by eight thirty," he looked sad, not something that happened a whole lot.

I was on autopilot all the way home. I wish I had a happy place to go to.

**BPV**

"Why on Earth would you come to Brooklyn to get us thrown out of a club?" Maria asked as we sat on the sidewalk.

"I just wanted to see how far you'd take it," I answered honestly.

"Why?" she asked.

"I need someone I can trust," I told her.

"Why?" she asked the night sky.

"I need a little time to myself every once in a while but not everyone will understand," I replied.

"I see," she sighed. She didn't but someday she would. "You can trust me." She continued without looking at me. There was something about Maria that made it possible for her to see me better than most people on a certain level. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what it was.

"I don't need you to just keep it a secret from everyone else. I need you to keep it a secret from yourself," I said. I didn't know how much sense that would make to her so I continued, "My husband can read minds. If you even think there's a different version of the truth…" I trailed off.

"I know those," she smiled. "Don't worry. I convince myself of something before I try to convince anyone."

"When can you start?" I got up and offered her a hand.

"Tomorrow," she smiled, "That's if my boss isn't anal about employees being hung over on the first day of work."

"I'm sure she'll overlook that," I smiled back at her. We hailed a cab and I went home. I took some ice from the freezer and put it on my hand. That should teach me to stop throwing punches. Should. I sat on the steps and lit the first cigarette I'd smoked since I came back to Manhattan. I had a lot of planning to do.


	10. Chapter 10

**The Wedding**

**BPV**

I stood in the mirror and examined my wedding dress. It was beautiful by any standard, a startling shade of white with tiny silver beads in fascinating patterns that I couldn't fully make sense of. It was strapless and lower in the back than I'd hoped. I should have known better than to let anyone else pick the dress. It was closely cut.

"I can see everything," Maria commented.

"I know," I replied, "The only thing that makes me think Charles can get the garter out is the fact that the bottom half of this tube is mostly lace."

"I didn't figure you for the veil type," she brought over my fake bouquet.

"The rest of the world doesn't know that," I took the flowers and looked back at the mirror. "How long?" I asked.

"About ten minutes," she glanced quickly at the watch and then shook her head.

"Ask," I sighed. The people who think I'm inquisitive have not met Maria.

"Where are your friends?" she asked. I didn't respond. What exactly could I say? She didn't really want to know where they were, probably just wanted to be sure I didn't have any. I turned to look at her when she didn't continue. "Your maid of honour and only bridesmaid is an actual maid."

"You're not a maid. You don't cook-"

"I serve."

"You lay the table once a day and you have help," I corrected, "You don't clean." I moved on to my next point.

"Picking up the clothes you throw all over the closet that's the size of my apartment should qualify as cleaning," she said.

"You don't even do the groceries," I rolled my eyes. "I do that _myself_."

"So you're essentially paying me to be your friend," she surmised.

_Well not exactly_. "Are you claiming to be my friend?" I asked. She laughed and shook her head.

"You have a big ass," she tilted her head to the side. I waited for the rest of the sarcasm. "For a skinny white girl." She slid into a more comfortable topic. "That dress is really tight."

"You don't need to tell me that," I pointed out, "_I_ can barely breathe."

"And yet you have not wiped the smile off your face all day," she mumbled.

"It's supposed to be the happiest day of my life," I replied facing the mirror again.

"It's also supposed to be fake," she pointed out.

"Are you going to make me regret telling you that?" I asked.

"Yes," she answered frankly, "Because if you didn't then I wouldn't know that the key word in that sentence is supposed."

"Excuse me," I said to my image in the mirror.

"You never spend more than thirty seconds in front of the mirror yet you stood there all morning and looked at yourself in a wedding dress with a smile on your face the entire time," she observed. I wasn't ready to respond so she carried on. "He's the only person you don't look at out of the corner of your eye."

"He is not," I replied.

"Under sixteens don't count," she said as soon as I'd finished my sentence. "You're different when he's in the room," she shrugged.

"I think I'm the first woman to be contradicted when she claimed she wasn't marrying for love," I thought out loud.

"I never said anything about love," she leaned against the wall looking smug.

"Then what the fuck were you talking about?" I asked. Making an assumption like that and being wrong irritated me _and_ made me sound defensive. Not the best way to get myself to be believed.

"You have faith in him," she said after a moment of concentration.

"Faith?" it wasn't something I was sure I even understood.

"You trust me, to a certain extent," she said as if this was meant to explain everything.

"There's a difference?" I sat in the chair and faced her.

"The rest of us have to earn it and I'm sure the process will ever really be complete," she explained.

"He earned it," I assured her. She waited for me to continue. "I met him two years ago. I was in more trouble than you could possibly imagine and he helped me in a way I'm sure no one else would. He didn't expect anything in return. I disappeared for almost two years after that. When I came back he welcomed me back without so much as a demand for an explanation. He's the best man I know."

She walked over and dabbed the corner of my eye. "And you said you didn't need waterproof mascara," she smiled.

"I've never said that out loud before," I explained, "It's a little overwhelming."

"And you didn't even mention the part where he's living like a monk," she laughed.

"He's not," I said as I caught the last tear.

"What makes you so sure?" she looked sceptical.

"The least you could do is google him. Charles is a wonderful man but he's a man nonetheless. And more importantly he's… Charles," I raised my hands. She looked at me blankly. "Besides the fact that he already has a mistress, the man get's more head than most brands of shampoo."

A gasp came from the door, "We're coming," I waved him off. We got our flowers and headed for the chapel entrance.

"I don't think you're right," she whispered.

"You should check out his mistress. Tall blond in the little red number," I whispered back. "I'm not the one who invited her," I said when her eyes widened. They narrowed rather fast. "When I said Charles was a wonderful man I didn't mean he wasn't a bastard." I directed her with my head and she walked down the isle. Wagner's march started after I'd been waiting for what felt like ages and I made my way down a very long isle. I estimated that there were four hundred guests.

Charles was in a suit that was somewhere in the spectrum between grey and silver with just the right amount of gloss. Women would fall all over themselves for him in a boiling suit. Getting married in that suit made it that much more unfair. His black hair carelessly styled. His bronze complexion was even. Looking at him made me forget that I was walking down the isle by myself. We joined hands and we repeated after the minister. We didn't make a fanfare of the wedding but the words seemed fitting. Then he kissed me. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me slowly till I was so lost in him that I didn't know we weren't one person.

The silence after the applause brought me back to the reality. We looked at each other for a second before we turned to face the people. In that second something told me that he'd been where I had been. Then another told me that wasn't a place I'd ever planned on going back to, especially not now.

The reception felt like a lie after all that. The best man's made-up funny story, the half truth about how we met suddenly seemed like a whole lie. Throwing a bouquet to a bunch of strangers didn't help. We didn't even look at each other as we danced. The strategically naïve words of our children made it the reception more real. They easily passed for ten but thirteen wasn't pushing it that much. They remained with Aaron most of the time. For a straight man of forty years he expressed very little interest in women.

The removal of garter made me tingle all over. If I didn't know better I'd think he was doing it on purpose. He slowly slid his hands up my thigh, past the very thing he was supposed to remove then curled his index fingers deliberately until he caught it. I closed my eyes and concentrated on not shivering as his hands made their way down my leg. He kept his other fingers straight but his grip on my thigh tightened as it descended. I shuddered involuntarily. I couldn't meet his eyes when he looked up at me. He worked faster and got it off without further incident.

"What happened?" Maria asked when I was finally able to dodge my guests.

"I honestly have no idea," I answered without thinking. She smiled smugly. I didn't ask.

"You know you can't avoid it, right?" she said when she realised I would say nothing further. "Don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking about. There's something there and it won't go away no matter how much you refuse to make eye contact with each other."

I sighed and went to find Charles. This elephant would move into the house if we weren't careful.

**CPV**

"What was that?" Aaron ambushed me. He was impossible to avoid.

"I got a little caught up," I answered.

"You think?" he raised one brow, along with his voice. "Get rid of that," he pointed subtly below my waistline.

"What?" I asked more out of surprise than anything else.

"You never put your hands in your pockets, especially not in a tux," he replied. I was being a little obvious and having anyone else notice would be awkward to say the least. I wandered aimlessly until I found myself alone in some room.

"How old is she? Twelve?" Kindle asked me from the door.

"Twenty four," I answered without getting up or turning around.

"Are you sure?" she closed the door, "She looked like she felt violated when you felt her up." She walked over. I couldn't deny either. I'd essentially felt her up and she did look a little uncomfortable.

"Are you being a bitch because we haven't spoken in two months or because I had my hand up her thigh?" I asked, again without looking at her. She came around and stood in front of me. The dress was short and the heels were high.

"Not communicating with me for that long because you had a new toy was childish," she dropped her purse, "I've seen you feel up more women than any one man should get to in a lifetime, let alone thirty six years but you know that. Right now I just have an itch to scratch," she hiked up her dress and pulled down a black lace thong. Where would I be without Kindle? Wait, I know the answer to that. Isolated from my own wedding by a persistent erection and creeping out my wife. I pulled my pants down and she straddled me.

**BPV**

I opened the door and froze. Maria and I were making mountains out of molehills. Charles was fucking his now official mistress in most of the suit he'd worn to our wedding five minutes ago. I closed the door before I remembered that I wasn't a mouse anymore. I opened it again and slammed it behind me. I watched them fumble around with their clothes. It wasn't much of a show. Not much had been taken off.

"Isabella," Charles started.

"Shut up," I stopped him, "You can fuck her whenever you like but when you choose to do it at our reception and leave me four hundred people I do not know, I take it personally. Don't apologise," I said when he opened his mouth, "It'll just piss me off. Let's go," I said as turned the knob, "I can't exactly leave without you." They shared a look I couldn't decipher. "Kindle," I addressed her, "If it's my party, you go through me. I will not be fucked with." She looked at me like I was a child who had just reprimanded an adult. Understandable.

"Isabella," he grabbed my arm when we were out of the room. "I didn't mean for you to-"

"I'm not hurt or angry. I'm not even surprised but I'll need you to keep it in your pants when we're out in public, especially when the kids are in the building," I said before pulling my arm out of his hand, "I think Aaron should take the kids home. They don't need to see this." I opened my hand and he handed me his phone. I sent a vague text to Aaron and we went to get rice thrown at us.

"It won't happen again," he said in the car. I didn't contradict him. It would be useless because he didn't know he was lying. Charles didn't get his reputation from nowhere. I just had to remember that from now on.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: For some odd reason i thought i'd uploaded this chapter already. If you blush easily there are a few paragraphs you might want to skip.**

**Thank you, Ryuusui for your wonderful review. Edward won't appear in this story but he does appear in Izzy (Another story in this series). If you'd like to know what happens when he comes back then you can find that story on my profile. Hope you enjoy it.**

**CPV**

"What should I do?" I asked Aaron. It had been over month since the wedding and you could tell Isabella was still mad. She'd even gone back to sleeping by herself. She wasn't giving me the silent treatment or anything like that but something was different. It wasn't an obvious coldness she showed but I felt it.

Aaron gave me the strangest look. "Why should you do it?" he asked.

"I left her alone at our wedding with people she didn't know. It was inconsiderate and disrespectful," I explained.

"And this has nothing to do with her sleeping with someone else?" he studied my face.

"You don't know that," I said. Did he have to bring this up now?

"Sure," he shrugged, "She just went to sleep somewhere else because they have sheets that beat a thread count of 2000."

"She's still mad," I responded.

"That would explain returning in the same clothes the next morning," he carried on.

"Would you please shut up for twenty seconds?" I requested.

"So you are jealous," he said. It wasn't a question. He was baiting me. There was no right answer to that.

"Yes Aaron, I am," I admitted, "Unfortunately that is not something you can talk me out of." He just shook his head.

"I'm going to go watch something boring like the weather to level out this chaos," he switched the tv on and started scrawling through channels while I sulked in the chair. ".fuck?" he gaped. I wasn't interested. My wife had spent a night away from our home. I hadn't even considered the possibility of Isabella having sex. She hadn't expressed any interest in it in my presence and she seemed to be completely oblivious to my need for it. She'd stripped down to her panties facing me and thought nothing of it.

"Are you even in there?" Aaron yelled at me.

"No," I shouted back.

"Look." He pointed to the screen and raised the volume again. Breaking News: a congressman found dead.

"There's no way," I shook my head.

"The screen disagrees," he gestured towards it. This made no sense.

"He's a congressman. It's not like he wonders the woods by himself," I pointed out. We sat in silence and listened to the details. There weren't that many. Aaron concentrated very hard on the wall. Isabella walked into the room. She was wearing crisp white pants and a green top. What I could see of the shoes was silver. The most interesting part of the outfit was the smile. She hadn't smiled at me like that since our wedding.

"Hi honey," she beamed.

"Hi," I got up. I couldn't help but smile as well.

"Blithe is dead," Aaron intruded.

"I'm bereft," she threw a neutral glance at him. "I have a job interview." She turned back to me and smiled again.

"A man is dead," Aaron spoke before I could.

"Ashes to ashes," she said, "And dirt to dirt. You didn't even like him." She pointed out.

"Death has redeeming powers," he turned to face her.

"You're not that romantic," she put her hand on her hip.

"Why are you smiling?" he asked.

"I'm going to have a place to go outside this house that doesn't want me to buy anything, bullshit included," she answered, "Now accuse me of something or let me talk about my prospective job."

Aaron looked at me. I shook my head. I wasn't sure what he was going to say but it would not be good. "I think you were an accomplice to murder," he blurted anyway.

Isabella put her hand on my chest when I started defending her. "Are you high?" She asked. it was a valid question.

"He recognised you. You threatened him into stark pallor. Six weeks later he's dead and it's a coincidence?" he said in a disbelieving tone.

"Enough," I told him.

"No," she said, "Enough has gone unsaid." She paused looking at the screen, "He was killed in Seattle, yesterday." She pointed to the screen.

"I said accomplice," he repeated.

"You're reaching," she said in a mild tone. "I have to go or I'm going to be late." She said to me.

"Good luck," I said after silencing Aaron with a look.

"Not necessary," she smiled as she got to the door, "This one's in the bag. See you at work, Aaron." She turned as she opened the door, giving him a chance to ask why he'd see her. He didn't. They exchanged a look that told me that my best friend was no longer friends with my wife.

"What the fuck was that about?" I asked in a calm voice when she'd left.

"I had a feeling," he shrugged.

"It better be gone," I sat back down.

"Or what?" he asked with genuine interest in the answer.

"Or keep your lunacy to yourself," I answered. I had the strangest sensation that I had just been asked to choose between one of my life partners. That must be a mistake. Lines were never drawn that fast. "Shit happens," I reminded him.

"Not that fast," he mumbled. I pretended not to have heard.

"Your father was a paranoid schizophrenic who ended up killing your whole family. You see crazy and murder everywhere," I wasn't pulling any punches either. His silence inspired remorse but I would not apologise. "Besides the fact that your thoery is far fetched," I tried a gentler approach, "She's my wife."

"Yes," he nodded, "Yes, she is." he cut his eyes and left.

Maria had taken the boys shopping, they were starting school tomorrow. I have never been this glad to have them out of the house. They came home late in the afternoon, Isabella came home right after them. They all celebrated finally being a normal part of society.

"I bought you a car," Isabella held keys in front of me that had a 'World's Greatest Dad' key holder. It was an SUV, a monster of a vehicle but the beige colour made it look tame. It definitely said dad. Tomorrow I would drop my wife off my kids at school with it, then my wife at work. I think I have a new favourite car.

"I ran into Kindle today," Isabella said when she stood in front of my door. I didn't know what to ask. "We had... an exchange," she smiled at the word, "A hanger was involved." I had just been called about that _exchange_. "For the record, those shorts would have looked better on me and she's a little old to show that much leg."

It was childish of me but I was glad they had this exchange. "What happened?" I asked with a slight smile. I couldn't help myself.

"She started it," Isabella laughed. "We got a hold of the same pair of shorts. After a while I realised she wasn't letting go so I did. Unfortunately she was holding on a little tighter than I thought. The hanger caught her on the nose, the shorts were ruined and she wasn't happy." She was as entertained as I was.

"I hear there was a certain level of premeditation," I smiled. She stopped laughing and looked up at the ceiling.

"I think I'm jealous of your girlfriend," she laughed.

"She's got nothing on you," I reassured her. Isabella was a rare brand of Beautiful, of Smart, of Charm and all other things that make a person. Kindle was beautiful inside and out, something people didn't see because being someone's mistress makes you seem trashy, but Isabella was a 50 year old single malt scotch.

"Don't do that," she shook her head. "Appease me like a child." She explained when I raised my shoulders.

"Hey," I walked over to her, "Besides being the most beautiful woman I know, you're also the most interesting. I only wish you would let me in." I brushed the side of her face and she leaned into my hand. I had an impulse and decided to act on it before I could throw myself off the nearest bridge. I kissed her. Slowly, hesitantly and she reacted just the same way. I was beginning to regret my decision when the full force of her passion hit me. She threw her arms around my neck and pressed herself against me. I scooped her up and felt her legs curl around my waist. A small part of my brain was sure this was a dream. The rest assured me this was not something I could imagine.

I walked over to the bed and laid her down under me. She wasn't having that. She flipped me onto my back with the strength and ferocity of a lioness. She pulled her tiny nightdress over her head. The only thing left was a tiny triangle of the frailest material. I trailed my hand slowly up to her breast. I wanted to savour this moment but I was also scared out of my mind. I rolled her nipple between my fingers. She closed her eyes and her mouth opened just slightly. My other hand made its way up her thigh. She started moving against me, creating wonderful friction. A groan escaped my lips. She reached behind her and trailed her fingers torturously up my thigh. I sat up and kissed her. We made out like teenagers. This might have been aided by my acting like a teenager who didn't know if he should try for home base immediately after the first kiss.

She made the decision for me by putting her hand in my sleep shorts and stroking me. I felt like I would come in that moment. My jaw clenched. Premature ejaculation was not something that would humiliate me before I even turned forty. God knows I don't need anything that points to middle age and the gap between our years. She got up to her knees and pulled down my only item of clothing. She pushed it down to my ankles with her foot. I lifted one foot free and flipped her onto her back.

I forced myself to break our contact to remove the only thing between us. Not much of it made it out alive. She moved her feet slowly up the sides of my legs as I moved back over her. Her thighs spread with my ascent. I kissed my way gently up her body and sucked on her nipple. One hand was paying attention to her other breast and it left me supporting my weight on mostly on arm. I should work out more.

When I moved up to kiss her I found myself pressed up against her core. Her hot, wet core. "Isabella," I said with my last ounce of restraint. She responded by moaning and curling her leg tighter around my waste. I pushed into her, slowly. The rest of the world disappeared after that. It was just me, her and the sounds we both made every time I thrust into her. And when I thought my life would never get any better, she called my name in a laden, breathy voice. Her body went rigid in sporadic intervals. At each one I felt her muscles clench around me but my undoing was the look on her face. Contorted in pleasure that, like mine, was almost pain. I thrust harder then stopped as I came inside her.

I was dead on my arms but I wasn't ready to look away from her face. Our breathing created a rhythm similar to that of dancers. I leaned in and kissed her. I was still tender but this time I was sure. I slipped down and lay beside her.

"Do you think the kids are asleep?" she laughed lightly into my chest.

"I certainly hope so," I kissed the top of her head.

"You want to know me?" she asked in a low voice.

"Every nook and cranny," I said holding her tighter.

"I think this will be easier if we do it in small doses," she sighed. I wanted to know everything about her. Knowing I would get to know her better made it easy to agree.

"Fire away," I said in a subdued tone. She stood up and turned so that her back was to me. She had seven lines on her back. One part of me said they were tattoos because they were black only the way ink could make something, another wasn't convinced because unlike tattoos they didn't leave the skin smooth. They looked like little grooves. They couldn't be scars because scars usually rose above the skin. It suddenly came to me that I'd never seen her back. "What are those?" I asked.

"Battle scars," she said in a tired voice and sat down.

"What happened?" I asked as i pulled her back into my arms.

"Let's start with the hardware," she smiled. "Tomorrow I'll show you a few things this body can do."

Most of them I would have never guessed.


	12. Chapter 12

**CPV**

"I'm sorry," Aaron said from the door. I ignored him. Whatever he was talking about I didn't give a shit. "What do you want me to say?"

"Nothing," I said much louder than was necessary.

"Fine," he said, "Not another word." He came to sit at the bar. "I wasn't thinking." He took my whiskey.

"This has nothing to do with you," I took it back. I'm not a drinker but alcohol is famous for making things seem better than they are for a little while.

"What happened?" he asked with concern.

"I slept with her," I mumbled into my glass.

"I'm not sure what the problem is," he said when I didn't elaborate.

"I found her crying on the bathroom floor with the water running when she thought I was a sleep," I told him.

"What did she say?" he asked.

"I didn't ask her," I answered, "The fact that she had the water running tipped me off that she might not have wanted me to know."

"The woman has secrets enough to fill the library of congress," he started.

"What is it that you were just saying about being sorry?" I asked before I sipped my whiskey.

"It might not have anything to do with you," he rephrased.

"She just chose to cry for the first time after she'd had sex with me," I said bitterly, "I took advantage of a moment of weakness." I confessed.

"What?" he wanted the whole story. I wasn't up for telling it.

"She was feeling insecure and I kissed her," I scoffed after a second, "I did way more than just kiss her."

"She would have said no," he said confidently.

"Really?" I asked, "To the man who pays for her entire life and, infinitely more importantly, has custody of her children?" why hadn't I seen that last night.

"You're better than that," he said.

"I know that Aaron, you know it and the kids know it. She doesn't. She knows I love the kids, she's seen that, but what she's seen of my treatment of woman puts me in a questionable light," I hoped he'd get it this time. I just didn't want to say this anymore. He didn't even bother to argue.

"How are you going to fix this?" he asked.

"Are you being sarcastic in some way I can't understand?" I snapped.

"No," he responded, "I haven't seen you this miserable since Crystal. I don't want to see you this miserable again."

"I would never do that to her," a few people turned around.

"I know," he said in a low voice, I don't know how much he was trying to appease me, "I can't stand you being like this. Just fix things with your wife." I got up. "Tomorrow," he said, "You smell like a distillery." I dialled home. "Perhaps a text won't convey your drunken state." He suggested. I sent the message that I would go home with Aaron tonight. He half carried me home. I was that drunk.

**APV**

We bumped into walls on our way to the guest bedroom. I let Charles go and he bumped into a light. I think he drank more today than he did the past year. I sat him down and took off his shoes. Of course he lay back as I did this. I got him up and took off his jacket. The rest he could sleep in. I tucked my grown friend into bed. "Good night Charles," I pulled the duvet up.

"Good night," he mumbled. "Aaron," he called when I was at the door. I turned to listen. "I think I love my wife," he confessed. That wasn't news to me but still. I don't need all the fingers on one hand to count all the times he's claimed to love someone. And if you cut out wedding vows and sentences like 'I love you in that bikini' there was only this time left.

"I know," I said and then closed the door. I wasn't just saying that. He'd been trying to give her the world ever since he'd set eyes on her. I just hoped she was nothing like Crystal and nothing worse.

**CPV**

My head was throbbing. Getting drunk was such a wonderful idea. "I've already called you in sick," came Aaron's voice. "Breakfast," he gave me a tray. Bagels. Good, I need something to soak up all the whiskey in my system. I threw the paper to the side. "You better eat all of that," he said, "Go carting can take a lot out of a man."

"Go catering?" I said with a full mouth.

"What you're doing it with your family today," he walked to the window. "An apology won't make this right. She's more pissed at me now that I've said I'm sorry so you're not making that mistake. Show her all the other things you'd rather do with her instead."

"That's… a pretty good suggestion," I started gently, "Good tactics with the apology."

"I really am sorry," he looked genuine, "You were right. I see crazy and murder everywhere. You need to go home and prepare for your afternoon activity." It was as close to a blessing as I was going to get.

"Thank you," I said getting out of bed, "It really means a lot."

"I like you better when you're not drunk and miserable," he laughed it off.

"Now let's just hope Isabella and I can go back to the way we were. I just want her to be happy," I hoped he'd understand.

"You said you loved her," he handed me my jacket.

"And so I do," I admitted, "But she doesn't feel as strongly about me and I still need to convince her I'm not an absolute bastard." I put on my shoes.

"Good luck with that," he said lightly. He walked out with me to and into his car. I stood on the side of the street. "What are you doing?" he poked his head out of the window.

"I believe it's called hailing a cab," I answered.

"Do you need me to call your driver?" he asked with a confused look.

"No, I want to take a cab," I told him. "I just want to experience the things she experiences okay? And I know it's stupid. You don't need to tell me." I was already ashamed enough having said this to another person.

"Love is stupid," I thought I heard him mumble as he put his head back in that car. Getting a cab was a little more difficult than I thought. It wasn't much of an experience either but it was something I could imagine her doing. Things had been a little awkward at home. That was my fault and I was determined to fix it. Everyone had gone to work by the time I'd arrived. Apparently I was also an irresponsible husband. I waited till Isabella and the kids were home. Longest morning of my life.

She came in joking but that changed when she saw me. I hated that I'd done this to our relationship. The kids didn't ask. "We're going go carting," I announced. This was met with approval by everyone. The kids ran upstairs to change. "You're going like that?" I asked. She was a little formal.

"Yes," she breathed. It was quiet after that.

"I don't want the other night to ruin things for us," I said when I couldn't take it anymore.

"Neither do I," she said sadly.

"Let's put it in the past and go back to the way things were," I suggested.

"I prefer that to the awkwardness," she smiled. It was genuine and I was glad. The kids came in at a moment that was too perfectly timed to be coincidence.

"Does this mean you'll look at each other at the table?" Anthony mortified us. His brother kicked him. I didn't object.

"Let's go have some fun," I pushed them out of the house.

**BPV**

_Let's put it in the past and go back to the way things were_. That's what I was hoping for right? No, but it certainly far better than the alternative. Sex ruins relationships for me. I can't get away from that. What is it that a person sees once you have your clothes off that makes them realise that they don't want to be with you? Or rather me. Whatever it was, it had always been there. Apparently it'll always be there. I was sad that Charles and I could never be more than… friends, I guess. But I was happy I could still have this.

I was horrible at go carting but that didn't stop it from being fun. I even lost, to top it all off but I still couldn't help laughing. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I now knew that my rash actions weren't going to tear my family apart.

**CPV**

I got my ass kicked by my kids. They enjoyed it too but not as much as Isabella enjoyed watching them do it, even right from the back. When she laughed all was right with the world. I thanked Aaron through a text when we got home. Isabella came to my room that night. I was wrong about all the awkwardness having ended. I slept with my back to her because I wanted to conceal my erection. She slept with her back to me as well. I guessed this wasn't easy for her either for whatever reason. She went back to sleeping in her room after that.

**BPV**

Instead of cuddling up to me as usual Charles faced the other way. I lay there thinking of the conversation I'd had with his ex wife. Rose. She was a bitch. Coming from me, that was something. Maybe people with that name just didn't like me. She'd come to my desk. Her very first words were about how I wasn't his type. I'd already injured his girlfriend. I wasn't about to let his ex wife get me worked up. I'd played it cool for her but there's one thing that stuck. She'd said it didn't matter that I wasn't up to the standard because he'd never get over his first (dead) wife.

"Didn't you wonder why he's been divorced thrice?" she'd asked me. "Crystal will always have his heart. You'll see it too eventually." With that she was off. This Rose was not much different from the one I'd known before. I'd googled Crystal and she was not much different from them either. Besides being unable to compete with the thing Charles obviously had for tall, elegant blonds. I had a feeling that they were all based on his first wife and that was infinitely worse.


	13. Chapter 13

**CPV**

I was stupid for thinking Isabella and I could just go back to the way things were. I was stupid for being jealous that she had a life outside of me. She'd met someone I could tell. She was always miles away. She spent fewer nights in my bed but for that she can't be blamed. I couldn't trust myself to touch her without losing control. My bed was a cold place. Maria kept as much of it from me as possible but I knew she was seeing someone. We'd never agreed to tell each other so it wasn't my place to ask and there was no way of doing so without seeming like the jealous husband that I was.

Aaron didn't agree with my assessment. If it weren't so obvious I would have thought I was paranoid. He's the one who saw everything. He didn't see this but then again he wasn't invested.

"Are you listening to me?" he yelled in my ear.

"Jesus Aaron, would you leave me alone?" I moved to the side.

"There's a serial killer doing away with rich, powerful men and you're not the least bit interested?" his brows knitted.

"I am enthralled," I said in an irritated tone. He took this as a signal to go on despite that fact.

"The spinal chord is always severed between the second and third, and the right lung is always punctured. The bodies are dropped, naked, in parks all over the city. A lot of these guys had body guards that were conveniently given the night off. It's strange," he prattled on, "It's almost like they had a hand in their own deaths. They're from all over the place and they get killed on their first night in Seattle. You'd think that after the first two the rest would tighten security." He looked away thoughtfully then looked at me.

"So now you think Isabella's an accessory to serial murder," I raised an eyebrow to show him how ridiculous I thought he was.

"No," he rolled his eyes at me, "This is so much bigger than any quarrel she had with Blithe."

"Those murders could be motivated by something other than crazy," I decided this conversation was better for my health.

"No one's found anything," he shook his head, "There isn't _shit_ that ties them to each other."

"That they know of," I mumbled.

"These are fairly high profile people," he argued, "Someone would know. I mean Haris Ahmed," he threw his hands up, "He's an oil tycoon from Saudi fucking Arabia. Blithe was a congressman, Blake owned a fucking gold mine in Africa-"

"Not by himself," I interrupted, "And the man's first name was Lucifer. Nothing good could come of that." Aaron chuckled his agreement. "What is it about dead rich people that you find so funny? You're not exactly poor," I reminded him.

"Compared to you? I'm in poverty," he replied, "And doesn't it nag you that people are letting themselves be killed without any reasonable explanation?"

"You're the one who wants to understand murder," I said, "The rest of us are content to let the… God this is probably above the FBI," it came to me, "Well whoever it is, do their jobs."

"The job that needs to be done now is the putting out of fires. When six rich people die in your country it's not just the tourism industry that suffers," he went on.

"I've never known you to have this morbid a sense of humour so what the fuck are you smiling about?" I asked when I started to pay attention.

"It's got nothing to do with being funny," the smile disappeared but the face was alive. He wasn't telling me everything. I needed something to keep myself from going crazy over Isabella's… relationship anyway. I'd distract myself by finding out his secret. Right then Isabella walked into the room. He was in such a good mood he smiled and greeted her. Her greeting was somewhat more formal but her smile was genuine.

"Are you two friends now?" I asked. "There won't be any more cold stares or cutting remarks? Miracles never cease."

"And neither does your… enthusiasm," she was going to use something far more vulgar I could tell. "I'm going to be out late tonight," I tried to keep my face neutral when she said that. "You guys have fun with your newspaper."

"I'll have you know that the newspaper is plenty fun," Aaron and his happy mood said. She leaned against the door, waiting. That's new, listening to each other is something they don't do very often. "The Seattle Snapper." He said in a voice you would use when telling a scary story to a child. I've never known him to be theatrical.

"Ew," she said in mock disgust, "That's the worst serial killer name I've ever heard of. Even if it's not for a real serial killer."

"What do you mean?" Aaron asked when she turned for the door, "This looks pretty serial killer to me."

"It's just too much effort," she shook her head.

"So what is it? The CIA?" he mocked. Well they go again.

"I don't know but they certainly do. Oil tycoon found dead in a park. Do you know how much protective detail the man had to dodge? Whoever it was had to lure him out with something really good. And the only person who could do that is someone who knew him enough to know what he'd take that kind of risk for," she made a good point.

"And the others?" he asked.

"Same damn thing," she smiled.

"They don't even know each other apart from standing across the room from one another at a charity event," he argued.

"Exactly," she said, "They had to have met at some point. I'm sure there was plenty they could do for each other but they avoided associating. Does that not sound suspicious to you?"

"I hadn't looked at all the facts," he conceded. He just didn't want to admit she was right.

"Don't you two have anything more cheerful to talk about?" I asked.

"We have nothing to talk about," Isabella started out of the room again. "Good night," she threw over her shoulder as she left.

"Night," we both said.

"She's going to him," I hung my head.

"Or her," Aaron was being an ass, "She sometimes goes drinking with Maria." He rectified when he saw the look on my face.

"And you believe that," it wasn't a question.

"When her breath smells like alcohol and tobacco, it's a little hard not to," he reasoned.

"She's picked up smoking," I mentioned.

"Oh," he said in a neutral tone.

"She only does it at night so I take it she doesn't want me to nag her," I continued. "How did you miss that?" I wanted to know.

"Like you said, she only does it at night," he repeated, "How would I know?" whatever he was doing was keeping him very occupied. Aaron never missed a change. "Did you ever look into getting a body guard?" he mumbled.

"Is that concern? It sounds so strange in your voice," I laughed. He just continued looking at me. "No but I have looked into avoiding Seattle, which, just in case you've forgotten, is on the other side of the continent."

"Fine," he said in a curt tone, "I'm going to the hospital. I'm on call." He lied. I knew Aaron's life as he knew mine. He was not on call.

"Even you forsake me," I mumbled heading to the door behind him.

"Your broken heart is one I cannot repair," he said as we parted, "I doubt sutures will hold it together." I'd love to deny having a broken heart but it did hurt.

"Good night Aaron," I said to shut him up.

"Good night," he walked in the general direction of the front door. I walked by Isabella's office. She hadn't wanted to decorate it. She just wanted the walls panelled and a desk she'd picked out. Many a time I found her lying under it. She never offered an explanation and I didn't ask. She'd tell me when she thought it was time. I went to the boys' room to say good night. They looked too expecting.

"What have you too been doing?" I asked. I was met by silence. "I never get mad at you so I don't know why you feel you have to hide things from me."

"Eli's in love," Anthony managed to get out before his brother tackled him.

"Whoa, whoa," I didn't bother trying to pull them apart, "That's half the fun in high school."

"She older," he screamed from the blur.

"That's also pretty normal," I said. The next sentence was muffled. "If you don't want to tell me then I don't have to know." I sat on the edge of the bed. Finally they were still. Eli still had his hand firmly on Anthony's mouth, "Is there anything we need to talk about?" I asked when I remembered that I was thirteen when I lost my virginity.

"No," they shouted. "And we did not need to know that." Eli was shaking his head as though the information would somehow fall out. "It's nothing like that dad." He let go of his brother's face. "She thinks I'm a kid." He said more to himself than either of us.

"You are a kid," Anthony said under his breath. If I heard that then his brother certainly did.

"Give your brother a break," I got up. "Maybe she'll notice you someday," I encouraged Eli. "Good night kids."

"Night dad," they called in unison.

"And go to bed, it's almost ten," I said before I closed the door. I went by Isabella's office again. It was less creepy than going to her room. I sat behind her desk and ran my hand across the wood. There were post-its next to the pens. I regret looking. It was a hotel room and a room number. I told myself not to go and I listened for exactly four minutes.

I parked outside the hotel. It was the kind that still has keys but I'm guessing that has more to do with discretion than cost. I sat in my car knowing I should go home, that I was out of line. We'd agreed that this was allowed. I wasn't exactly the scorned husband. I was the play husband who fell in love with his play wife. I was parked well away from the hotel, lost. What was I even doing here?

She walked out of the hotel clutching something in her left hand. She put it to her heart and looked nervously at someone outside my line of sight. That was a bad sign and I wasn't going to let anyone hurt her, even if I had to explain what fuck I was doing here.

I got out of the car and walked towards her. All of a sudden she smiled but that wasn't what stopped me. It wasn't even the fact that she jumped into a stranger's arms and had her legs wrapped around his waist. Maybe I would have even been able to stomach seeing his arms curl tightly around her waist, maybe. I'm fairly certain I would have looked at his face and walked away even as he was turning excitedly with her in his arms, if he didn't happen to be my best friend.


	14. Chapter 14

**CPV**

I stood there, frozen, I don't know how long. I just watched my wife and my best friend, my former best friend, laughing together. In each other's arms. I got to them so fast I didn't know how. He'd put her down by that time. I grabbed Aaron by both shoulders and threw him on the ground. "you sick son of a bitch" I punctuated with my fists. Isabella was trying to pull me off him. I beat him till all I could hear were the sounds of my fists against his flesh.

"Charles, stop," she screamed. She wasn't seriously defending him. Wait, I was being stupid, of course she was defending him. That hurt more than the fact that she was sleeping with him. I grabbed her upper right arm and pushed her back until she hit the wall.

"You sadist, pretentious whore," I hissed in her ear. She didn't respond. I looked her in the eyes as I backed away. Aaron was still lying on the ground. I wanted to beat the shit out of him. I picked him up and pushed him up against a cab. I hope she suffered, watching the man she loved more than she ever loved me about to suffer serious injury.

She just stood watching me with her hands on her sides. She sank to her knees and then started crying. She wasn't going to pull that act right now. "You slept with my best friend, a man who was like a brother to me, for that I will never forgive you and you don't get to cry." I wanted that to hurt. For a second I thought it did.

"Charles," Aaron shouted behind me. I suddenly remembered I had some unfished business to attend to. Isabella stepped between us right when I stepped towards him.

"Stop," she said in a simple tone. I was about to pull her out of the way when she lifted her left hand and dropped a key on the floor. I didn't want to get distracted but I looked at it. "Husband of the year" it proclaimed. I stood there trying to figure out if was being duped or not. I lowered myself and picked it up. I looked in her eyes as I rose. "You are a bastard Charles Bass," she walked away. I stood there watching her go.

"You stupid son of a bitch," Aaron said in an equally quiet tone. I turned to him. I was still mad as hell. I slammed him up against a car. He didn't put up a fight. He just slumped against it. The fact that he wasn't fighting meant something.

"Now?" I asked in a dead tone. "You had to do this to me now?"

"The only thing I did to you was get you a birthday present," he shook his head and pointed to my feet. I looked. 'Husband of the year' looked up at me again.

"What the fuck is that?" I pushed him harder.

"The one thing you really want," he spat blood, "Or the one thing you really wanted."

"What the fuck do you mean?" the only thing I wanted was to go back to a time when I thought my wife _might _love me, even if it was just in a friendly way.

"Little Bastard," he said.

"You are in no position to insult me," I reminded him.

"The car asshole," he spat out more blood, "The car you've wanted ever since you heard about it, when you were eight." He wasn't serious.

"The car?" I scoffed.

"Yes," he shouted, "James Dean's fucking car. Or most of it."

"No," I cried when I realised the implications of what I'd done.

"Yes," he slid down the side of the car.

"But I just…" I couldn't even bring myself to say it out loud. "Please tell me I didn't." I begged.

"But you did," he said from the tar.

I'd just called my wife a whore when all she'd tried to do was get me the one thing I'd wanted since I was a boy. Now that I was thinking about it, the only way she could have known about that was if she'd asked Aaron. "I'm so stupid," I said.

"Yes," he spat again, "Yes you are. And to think we went through all that trouble."

"I'm sorry," I sank down to the road as well. Isabella was gone. I didn't know how I'd make this up to her but I would.

"Do you believe me now?" he asked with a sudden laugh.

"About what?" I was in no mood for laughter but I was in no postion to be rude either.

"The curse of that damned car. We've only touched the keys and I just got beaten up in the street, your wife is insulted not to mention pissed and you are fucked," he explained, "And we're going to be on page six," he pointed to someone who had just snapped us.

If only I could blame this on the Curse of Little Bastard rather than my own jealous rage.

**Maria's POV**

"Isabella," I greeted her in my gown. "What can I do for you at eleven pm?"

"You could start by letting me in," she pushed the door, and me, aside. She had a bottle of whiskey in her hand, bad sign. She sat down and put her feet on the coffee table.

"Make yourself at home," I said sarcastically while shutting the door. The bottle was already open and she started drinking out of it. "He didn't like his gift?" I asked. Whenever she showed up here drunk or otherwise intoxicated it had something to do with her husband. Well, usually.

"He thinks I'm sleeping with his best friend and called me a whore," she drank some more.

"But there's an explanation," I sat opposite her. She gave me a look I couldn't quite understand and drank some more whiskey. She lay back and drank in silence. It wouldn't be the first time she'd passed out on that couch.

"I need a place to stay," she said after a long time.

"You've stayed here before," I pointed out.

"I meant a more permanent arrangement," she explained.

"Why?" I asked.

"I'm getting divorced and I can't afford a lawyer so I'm thinking I'm not getting the house," she looked at the ceiling.

"Isn't that a bit rash?" I asked.

"He's in love with his dead wife, he slept with his mistress at our reception. He slept with me and refused to even look at me after that. I tried to get him the best possible present and he spit on it. I wouldn't care if I didn't care but I do and I can't do this anymore. Not to mention that his father and best friend hate me," she raised her finger, along with the bottle at his last thought.

"You and Aaron seemed to be getting along," I tried. Isabella had never admitted loving her husband but I could tell by the way she blushed talking about the night they'd spent together, how hurt she was when he acted like it had never happened, how angry she was at him for sleeping with his mistress and by doing this now. She wouldn't be happy if she left.

"Diplomacy," she said, "It's the act of saying nice doggy till you can find a big enough stone. Aaron's monitoring me more than anything else. And I was complying in the hopes that he'd get off my back."

"So he still doesn't trust you," I concluded.

"He never will. There's too much he doesn't know about me and a lot more I'm not going to tell him. Besides," she drank again, "He thinks I'm all wrong for Charles. Sadly he's right."

"That's not true," I contradicted. Isabella and Charles were wrong for each other on paper but there was something there. I didn't know what it was but it was there.

"It is," she sighed. "I'm just torturing myself if I stay."

"I'm sure he didn't mean it," I tried to reassure.

"That's how he sees me," she was starting to slur. "That's how I see me," I thought I heard her say. "Good night Maria." It was a dismissal and I wasn't about to ask. I make more than most policemen who put heir lives on the line by just laying tables and riffling through clothes. The least I could do was listen to drunken utterances, offer comfort where I could and pretend I didn't hear what I was not supposed to.

"Good night Isabella," I brought her a blanket. I had a spare bedroom but for some reason she felt more comfortable sleeping the couch. I knew she'd be gone by the time I woke up so there was no way to talk to her when she was sober. She wasn't one to change her mind though and I went to bed wondering what would happen to my source of comfort if she really went through with this divorce.

**BPV**

I sat for a long time thinking about my decision. Charles was not an unreasonable man and he'd let me see my children as often as I liked. Everything would be the same except I wouldn't have to wonder who he dreams I am when he's holding me in his arms. I also thought about all the relationships I'd had and how badly they all ended. The people who stuck around ended up dead. I can't even blame those who left. They couldn't all be at fault. I was the common factor.

I drank three cups of coffee and went to the one house I never thought I'd set foot in. I stood outside and smoked a cigarette. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" he asked with a sour face.

"I'm short on money," he scoffed when I said this, "And friends in the legal profession," he looked interested now but not in helping.

"So you don't have money because you've done something you can't tell Charles about," he deduced, "What I don't understand is why you think I'd help you."

"You don't want me married to your son and I want a divorce Judge Bass," I forced a smile. "I don't want a settlement, just joint custody. You also happen to have access to all the information needed. Get a lackey to file the proper papers and serve Charles."

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, "Not that I'm trying to stop you," he explained quickly, "I'm just curious."

"The only satisfaction you're getting out of this is watching Charles and I get divorced," I stepped on the bud on his marble floor and left.

"The law also requires the reason," he said. I pulled his newspaper from his hand and opened it to page six. There I was embracing Aaron in one picture and Charles punching Aaron in another.

"I'm surprised you didn't already know," I walked away leaving him to jump to conclusions like the rest of the state would. It helped to have friends in high places but common goals also did the trick.


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: Thank you Olga. I live for reviews like yours. Yes, my dear Charles is a bit of a man. Bella and Maria don't really trust each other yet. She has no one else and Maria is… well let's say she's practical. She doesn't bite the hand that feeds but she's also alone and in need of a friend. I hope you like the rest of the story and I look forward to your next review. **

**MPOV**

"Isabella," I opened the door. She was carrying a duffel bag.

"I need a place to crash," she walked in, as was the typical fashion with her.

"You have a house," I closed the door and waited.

"I'm divorced and the house went to Charles," she walked into the spare bedroom.

"That was fast," I followed her.

"When you have lawyers that are willing to work all night and no fight about assets or custody it doesn't last as long," she dropped her bag in front of the closet, "Charles would never take away my children so I don't give a shit what's on the papers. The rest he can keep. He can spend it with his mistress. Who is now his girlfriend." She twirled her hand in the air. She seemed a little hyper. Unusual for her. I guess this is what people call a coping mechanism.

"So if you're slumming it," I unzipped her bag, "What are you going to do with a billion dollar settlement?" I was too used to cleaning up after her.

"You read page six?" she evaded. I started packing her things away.

"That was page six? The size of the font confused me. Oh and the font gets larger when you ditch hearings," I hinted. She said nothing. "Are you still avoiding your ex husband?"

"Yes," she smiled. _You look superficially happy._ I knew better than to say that. I didn't ask how long she intended to stay or where she'd been sleeping before now. Over the next week she didn't pick up her husband's phone. She called her kids and didn't talk to him. She took the week off and sat by her window and smoked, wasn't chatty either. The only time she left was to run every morning. On the sixth day of her stay her husband came by. I took it he was tired of getting divorced by himself.

"Where's my wife?" he asked when I opened the door. I didn't correct him.

"I don't know," I lied. He pushed the door to the side. It would seem that everyone who entered this house with the last name Bass thought it customary to push the door regardless of instructions to the contrary.

"Isabella," he called walking around the house. Right, I'm going to take a walk.

**CPV**

"Isabella," I kept calling. She didn't answer but I wasn't going away. The last thing she said to me was that too much had been said and done. I was asking her not to divorce me then. Well that was a smashing success, seeing as I'm a forth time divorcee now. I have a little practice with divorce and I've never been met with absolute silence. I found her smoking on the window sill. She crossed her legs and leaned back, blowing smoke in my direction. "I'm sorry," I started. "I was stupid and I deserve your anger but please, don't leave, not like this."

"How would you like me to do it?" she asked coolly.

"I don't want you to leave," I walked closer and then stopped. I didn't want to push it.

"That's not on the table," she hoped down and leaned against the wall.

"I know what I did was stupid," I tried again, "And the things I said were insensitive and hurtful. _I am_ _sorry._ Please don't go." I begged. There wasn't much I could say for myself that wouldn't sound like an excuse and a pitiful one at that. There wasn't much I hadn't said regardless.

"Look Charles," she punctuated with a drag, "Cohabitating is hard enough with all the necessary affection." That hurt to hear. "And we don't even know each other." I felt it time to interrupt.

"We can learn," I said.

"And what have you learned about me?" she asked and then pulled again. There was a question I couldn't really answer. Not in words. It would never make sense.

"You won't _let_ me know anything about you," I found myself raising my voice.

"So you made up facts to fill in the blanks," she pointed at me, "And I don't fancy the picture you painted." She raised her hand and silenced me. "I went out of my way to get you something you've always wanted. I tried to make friends with your best friend. And there's a reason you're his only friend, by the way. You see me hugging him and instead of giving me the benefit of the doubt you chose to go with the assumption that I was a whore." She paused to make me think about what I'd done. I'd been thinking about it everyday since I'd done it. "And for that Charles, _I_ will never forgive _you_." My words were thrown back at me. I felt a stab in my heart.

"The kids need you," my voice shook.

"I'm not leaving the country Charles," she pulled again. _You're just leaving me._

"I don't understand why you feel you have to leave the house," I clarified. "We can go back to the way things were."

"Too much has been said and done," she shook her head. I'm really starting to hate those words.

"I'll make it up to you," I found myself promising, "Just give me a chance to try."

"You're not understanding me," she shook her head.

"I'll try harder," I interrupted.

"Shut up," she put her cigarette out in the ashtray. "Too much has been said and done for us to go back to the way things were, okay? How many times do I have to say that? Getting married was a horrible idea not only because it didn't work out but because it changed things."

"We can change them back," I tried to hold her hand. She pulled it away. "Just give it time." I fisted my hand.

"Again, we are not on the same page," she picked up the box and pulled out another. She lit the cigarette. "You said something insensitive. People are insensitive all the time. The worst part about what you said was the fact that I wasn't sure it was a lie."

"It was," I reached for her again. This time I meant only to comfort. She pulled away from me again.

"_I_ need to know that Charles. _I_ need to be sure that what you said was just you being a bastard, which you are, and not a reflection on me," She walked over to the bed.

"It's not a reflection on you," I sat on the bed but a respectful distance away.

"How can you know that?" she turned towards me, "You don't even know me."

"I want to," I stopped my hand as it trailed across the bed.

"So do I," she looked so sad. "I need to know who I am." She pointed to her chest, "So that I know I'm justified in slapping the pigment off your face if you ever call me any sort of name again. But I don't know what I am and what I'm not and that makes me too dependant on what you think I am and what everybody else thinks. Ever since I came back here I've been the twins' mother, Crawford's PA, Maria's Boss, Aaron's goldfish and your wife," she paused for a drag, "I'm not Bella anymore but Isabella's a generic brand. I need to find… do you understand what I'm saying?" she opened her palms.

"Yes," I put my hand tentatively on hers.

"You're still a bastard," she pulled her hand out from under mine. "And we're still divorced." She pulled the ring off and put it in my hand. I desperately wanted her to stay. I don't even know what I did before she came into my life. Three failed marriages, now four, and this is the first time I actually felt like I was failing, like I was losing someone.

"Do we have to act like divorced people?" I laughed, nervous.

"No," she looked at me, "Our kids are too smart for that." I was hoping it was the value of our friendship but I'd take what I could get.

"They didn't miss that you didn't say two words to me since my birthday," I was bold enough to say. She crossed her arms and raised her brows. "And I'm fortunate you're talking to me now." I mumbled. "Have dinner with us tonight. Reassure the kids."

She nodded after a second of thought. "I want you to have something." I reached into my breast pocket and removed my mother's picture from the chain. I put the thin white gold chain through the ring. She'd already started shaking her head. "It's your ring." I said.

"I'm your ex wife," she reminded me, "And that's a seven million dollar ring." She pointed. "You tend to find out the true value of things when you're getting divorced." She explained when she saw my surprise.

"It's not a wedding ring when it's around your neck," I moved behind her and fastened the clasp.

"I can't keep this," she started to take it off.

"You are a stubborn woman," I pulled her hands away from her neck. "I'm not wearing that ring and I'm not selling it. I bought that stone for you and had it set for you. It's the one thing I think is a reflection on you. Wear it, if only as I sign that you won't hate me forever."

"I don't hate you," she touched the ring, "You're not my favourite person in the world right now, I'll admit that. But I could never hate you. Not you." She smiled at me, a real smile, and for the first time I felt like I could survive being divorced. "I'm coming for dinner," she got up started stripping. "But I need a good scrub before I go around anyone with a strong sense of smell. I reek like an ashtray."

"I'll, uh, go wait… somewhere else," I shuffled towards the door.

"You've seen all this before," she ran her hand up her thigh and all the way to her breast. I closed my eyes tightly.

"I don't remember being castrated since then," I took my hands out of my pockets and she saw my wood. She looked down and oh my God, "Did you just blush?" I blurted.

"Go wait… somewhere else," the red in her cheeks intensified. I couldn't believe this. I had never seen her blush before. I was trying to figure out why when she suddenly felt the need to cover herself. "Charles," she yelled for my attention.

"Sorry," I walked to the door and into it then around it. Well that went better than I could have possibly imagined going by her recent behaviour. She came out dressed casually. Her hair was down. It was just touching her shoulders now. It looked edgy, suited to her. "I like your hair," I got up.

"Don't," she walked past me.

"What?" I followed her.

"Just don't," she walked to the car. Okay, I was confused and she obviously had no intention of clarifying.

"How often do you plan on coming by?" I asked on our way to the house.

"Probably everyday," she shrugged. _It'll be like I never left._ She didn't say that last part. We made small talk till we got to the house.

"Mom," the kids ran out to her. She bent and embraced them tightly. "Everything good now?" Eli asked enthusiastically. I wasn't going to be the one to answer that question. I didn't know the answer to that question.

"Everything's good," she brushed his hair back.

"About damn time," Anthony mumbled.

"I will put you over my knee and spank you if you speak like that," she pulled him by the ear.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"What's for dinner?" she asked conversationally after letting his ear go.

"Ice cream," I told her honestly. No one here would eat otherwise. She shook her head but smiled. We had our first conversation in a long time that night. Everything felt so right as we littered the living room and talked quietly over a dinner that no parent in their right mind would serve. It felt like home. If I could have this everyday then maybe being divorced wouldn't be so bad.

The kids went to bed and we watched the sequel to the Terminator. I didn't know I even had that. We heard the door open and Isabella rolled her eyes. "I have to go," she got up.

"You don't have to go," I blocked her. They were openly hostile now. I suppose I had a significant contribution to that.

"No," she looked at the entrance with what looked like faint disgust, "I have to go."

"Good evening Isabella," Kindle waltzed into the room, "Fancy seeing you here."

"Good night," she pushed me out of her way. Her demeanor bore a strong resemblance to one I thought I'd gotten rid off. Great. Just perfect. I knew there was no point in following her now. If anything it would make it worse.

"Why the hell would you do that?" I turned to Kindle.

"What exactly did I do?" she went to sir where Isabella was sitting.

"You pissed her off," I hissed.

"So?" she crossed her legs.

"She just started talking to me again," I sighed.

"And that's all?" she got suspicious.

"What else could there be?" I sat down.

"I'm not blind Charles," she faced me, "At first I thought it was the attraction you feel for all female delicacies but now I'm not so sure." I waited for her to go on. "Do you have feelings for her?" she asked when I didn't say anything.

"What does it matter?" I asked. Denial seemed pretty futile at this point.

"Why did you get divorced?" she asked me, puzzled.

"She doesn't feel anything for me," I mumbled bitterly.

"Then why is she angry about you spending the night with someone else?" she asked.

"It's not that," I explained, "She just got reminded of all the other stupid things I did."

"Stupid things?" she blinked.

"You know I don't mean it like that," I touched her arm, "She doesn't let things go easily and now she's going to ignore me again for only God knows how long." I slumped into the chair.

"Goodbye Charles," she kissed my cheek.

"Do I detect hidden meaning in that?" I asked.

"I can't wonder if you're thinking about her every time we're together. My ego couldn't take that," she got up. "Now I can't help but wonder if you were thinking about her whenever you weren't in the mood." She looked at me questioningly. She shook her head when I didn't answer. "God dammit Charles," she put her hand on her hip. "Look I didn't really care that you were married before because, well, you weren't really married. Now you are." She touched my shoulder as she walked past me.

"I'm divorced," I said to the carpet.

"You're stupid," she said a little loudly as she headed for the door. I've only ever taken advice from two people. Aaron's advice was the most practical and I asked for it most often. Kindle's advice was more on the whimsical side. It came unbidden and it planted treacherous things like hope. Apparently it also made me stupid because I found myself trying to devise a plan to get her back. Not stupid enough to think that this could happen over night. This time I needed to lay a proper foundation but I wasn't giving up.


	16. Chapter 16

**BPV**

I hate Charles. With him it's always the same. He makes you look left then he goes right. Stupid son of a bitch. I catch a cab back to Brooklyn. The driver looks at me in the mirror a few times. I give him fifty dollars and the finger. I'm sick and tired of being in newspapers and what the fuck kind of taxi driver has the time to be reading about my damn divorce? I've taxed Maria enough, I decide. I walk to a bar instead.

The barman looks at me with a frown for longer than I like. "Double whiskey, neat." I order. He pours it and puts it in front of me.

"Hey, aren't you-"

"If you ask me about my divorce," I interrupt him, "You'll need to have my foot surgically removed from your ass." He nods and raises his hands in surrender. I throw the whiskey back and signal another. He obliges and says not another word.

"You're Isabella Bass, right?" a young man, no more than twenty five asks me.

"King," I correct him.

"Oh, right, you're-"

"Gonna kick your ass if you say the words divorced, billion dollar settlement or Charles Bass," I warn him. He laughs lightly, assuming its an idle threat or humour.

"I'm Richard," he tells me.

"Did I ask for your name?" I ask him.

"No but-"

"Get lost," I throw back my whiskey and slam the glass on the table.

"I think you need company," he says mildly.

"I think you need stronger motivation to leave me the fuck alone," I signal the barman again. He pours my drink and shakes him head slightly at the young man. _Thank you_ I don't say. "Leave the bottle."

"Ma'am," he starts.

"Leave the damn bottle," I throw Benjamin Franklin at him. He looks sceptical but shrugs and puts the bottle in front of me.

"Hey foxy lady," says a boy who looks no older than eighteen.

"Walk away," I instruct without glancing in his direction. He curses me under his breath and walks away. A few more people try to take the seat next to me. I give them more or less the same reception. A pretty, tall blond in a short tight skirt comes to sit next to me.

"Annoying, isn't it?" she says to the air while waving the barman over.

"You would know," I reply without looking at her.

"Why does the attention bother you?" she turns ever so slightly towards me. The stealth of females.

"Because I don't want to talk," I pour myself another drink. She smiles and slides out of the chair.

"Win some, lose some," she takes her drink and leaves. The grace of the female population.

"You can get fifty shots out of that bottle," a voice says behind me.

"Not with a twenty five mil shot glass," I inform it.

"Thirty then," the voice moves over to my left and leans against the bar.

"I assume you're telling me that for reasons other than a display of your arithmetic skills," I pour another drink.

"I was hoping you'd tell me your name," he says. I turn to look at him. "Is that a no?" he tilts his head. I cannot remember when last I was glad to be unknown.

"Do you have a condom?" I ask. He blinks rapidly then nods vigorously. I throw my drink back and get up. "You'll do." I say then turn around. He follows me out. By the time he's gotten his jacket and come outside there's a cab waiting. I enter and slide, giving my address and fare. He enters after me and asks for my name again. I give him a look and put my earphones in. I still have no interest in talking. I pat my pockets for keys I soon become reasonably certain aren't there.

I decide to break in. It's two in the morning. "Hey, do you live here?" asks a concerned voice.

"Yes," I answer but offer no further explanation as I pull pins from my pocket.

"Why are you breaking in?" he asks as I work on the lock.

"Because it's two in the morning and my keys are inside," I explain as the door opens.

"You have one of those doors that lock automatically when you pull it shut?" he asks with curious tone.

"Something like that," I take his hand and lead him to my room. I pull him inside and close the door. There's enough light streaming in from the window so I don't turn on any lights. Not three seconds after I'd done that he was kissing me, roughly. Good, I need him gone before the sun comes up. I push him towards the bed, where I straddle him and take off my top. He flips me onto my back and takes off his jacket. I hear keys as it is dropped by my head. One of his hands fists my hair, holding my mouth to his as his other hand trails up my arm and before I know it I'm cuffed to the bed.

I wrap my legs tightly around his waste as he tries to get up. "Where are you going?" I ask him.

"To get my car," he smirks. Then I see the predator. If I'd spared him a second glance I would have seen it sooner. I grab his hair with my free hand and bang his head against the wall above my head. My thumb gets caught in the crossfire. I quickly adjust and bang it again. He seizes my hand and says, "You've got fire. I'll give you that."

"You should give me more," I smile at him. He's confused now. He expected me to be afraid. The confusion doesn't last long but it does last long enough for me to flip him over to the side that allows me the most movement. I keep my legs wrapped around him while I pull my hand out of his hair and punch him in the eye.

"Bitch," he pushes my head back. The light is blinding his good eye and he can't see me properly. I slap him for good measure. Bad move. His vision clears and throws himself at me, curling his hand around my neck. This could end badly for me. I push myself into his strong hold. His elbows bend. The moment he makes as he lets up before he thrusts again is my gap. I pull my leg up to my chest. When it's sandwiched between us I thrust it out at an angle. I don't want to kick him full on. He'd fall of the bed I'm still attached to.

He veers to the side. I flip him over with my leg and use it to trap him against me. He reaches back and grabs my hair. I let him, then I slip my free hand by his face and circle his neck. His hand releases my hair when I start squeezing. I circle my hand all the way back to my shoulder by the time he grabs it. There's no getting it off now. Not with failing strength. He sees this and releases my hand. What is this mother fucker doing?

He fumbles in his pockets. Stopping him would entail removing either my leg or my arm from his anatomy and that would be counterproductive. He pulls out an object. I would know the sound that followed anywhere. The opening of a press-button knife. Working fast, I move my hand till I have a firm grip on his ear. He aims first for my leg. I push his shoulder forward with my own and then slip my leg behind it. He hits the bed and gets all the way to the mattress. That is a sharp knife.

I slide my knee to his shoulder blade, as close as I could get to the centre and push him forward hard while pulling his head back and to the side with all the strength in my upper body. His head falls back without anchor and his body falls limp on top of mine.

"Oh my God," Maria says from the door. She's pointed a gun in our general direction. "Is he dead?" she asks.

"Not yet," I answer before I can really think about the implications. She turns on the lights. I can still hear the sounds of his breathing. Very poor. "Search him," I instruct. "Handcuff key." I clarify moving my hand. She quickly retrieves the key and frees me. I push him aside and stand up. She carefully moves him back onto his back. "What are you doing?" I ask her when she picks up the phone.

"I'm calling 911," she says as though this is the most obvious thing in the world.

"For a man you were prepared to shoot five seconds ago? One who was going to kill me and possibly you too?" I ask in quick succession. "Put that damn phone down."

"We can't just let him die," she says even though she has put the phone down. _We can_ I refrain from saying.

"He's going to bring down all sorts of hell on us," I point out, "Not the least of which being an investigation." I can see the gears in her mind start moving when she hears the words investigation. _What the hell are you running from, Maria?_

"I couldn't live with myself if I let him die," she looks down.

"He's practically dead already," I say. She looks at me in a way that makes it clear how cold that was. The man was going to kill me or worse, I feel no remorse, but now is not the time to look like a sociopath. I pace around the room thinking of a way to appease Maria and not get us both under a microscope.

"This is a horrible idea," I tell her as I dig my phone out of my pocket. She looks at me like she's in pain as I dialled.

"Someone better be dying," Aaron answers in a thick voice.

"Wish granted," I reply.

If I'd known the night would end the way it was about to I would have invested in a disguise, latex gloves and a fake ID.


	17. Chapter 17

**APV**

Isabella opened the door half naked and bruised. "Are you okay?" Charles immediately went to her. She was too busy fuming to answer. I wasn't supposed to tell him let alone bring him along.

"I'm a heart surgeon and you told me this was a head injury," I said, "He was a neurosurgeon."

"How many years ago?" she scrunched up her face.

"I can help," he said. I think Charles has caught the disease to please.

"You can't," she stepped in front of him. "Aaron should do it." She looked at me like she was trying to convey something, the importance of me doing this.

"I think he should," I encouraged. How badly did she mess this guy up? Charles stepped around her as she tried to find a reason for him not to be the one to go in there without making him suspicious.

"What don't you want him to see?" I asked when he'd disappeared into her bedroom. She had no intention of replying. She looked scared. I hadn't seen that on her in a long time. "What did you do?" I asked again. I knew she wouldn't answer. I knew I could go and see for myself but I didn't want to. Charles didn't need me there when he saw whatever she'd done. "Why didn't you call 911?" I continued.

"I have a doctor who makes house calls," she returned but she was pacing.

"The police?" I pointed to her bruised wrist and neck. It didn't feel necessary to remind her of the dead guy in the next room. I got the finger and Charles came back into the room looking somber.

"He's dead," he shrugged. Shocking for him.

"What exactly happened here?" I asked.

"I think it's fairly obvious," Charles was almost angry. Isabella looked away as if he'd hit her. "He tried to hurt her and she fought back." He went on.

"How do you manage to take down a grown man? Tiny little thing like you," I wondered out loud.

"It's called having survival instincts Aaron," Charles went to put his arms around her. You have got to be kidding me. "And a gun is a pretty powerful weapon."

"She shot him and no one heard?" Normal people don't have silencers.

"I never said she shot him," he instinctively lowered his voice as she put her head on his chest and folded herself into his embrace.

"That's one hell of an arm you've got there," I noted.

"Give it a rest," Charles mouthed. "I'll be right back," he whispered comfortingly and walked back into the room. I was frozen by shock. She'd killed a man. In self defence, that I could tell, but he should still be horrified. People who are bludgeoned to death never pretty. Maria certainly looked horrified. He was leading her gently out of the room where the body was. "Take her for a walk or something to calm her nerves. We can take care of this."

Maria walked towards me with her arms wrapped around herself. "And by take care of this you mean call the police," I verified.

"No, we're going to call the fire department because they have a nicer vehicle," he hissed and then walked back to Isabella. I put my arm around Maria and moved towards the door. Her expression was neutral by the time she got into the car. I poured her a drink and we sat in silence till she was herself enough to get back inside.

**CPV**

"Why?" I asked when we were alone.

"Sometime between being cuffed to the bed and having a knife pulled on me I figured I'd better fight for my life," she answered.

"You know that's not what I'm talking about," I said, "You didn't hit him with a gun and we both know that."

"Most people would ask how," she deflected.

"I'm getting to that," I told her. Now that she'd mentioned it, it sounds pretty impossible.

"Revenge," she said simply.

"For what?" I wanted to know.

"I don't wanna talk about it," she said after a long silence, "I just wanted to put that behind me and move on with my life."

I didn't want to push her. "So what now?" I asked.

"That's up to you," she stated as though I should have known that.

"Now we call the police," Aaron stated from the door. We hadn't heard them come back. "It's pretty obvious what happened here." He continued when I looked at him.

"The gun isn't registered," Isabella announced.

"Whose gun is it?" Aaron asked.

"It's mine," Maria answered and offered no explanation for having an unregistered firearm. Isabella and Maria remained disturbingly still and quiet. Aaron just shook his head. He looked at me questioningly. I raised my shoulders in response. What could we do?

"We have to do something," Aaron pointed out. Still no one responded.

"You guys go home," Isabella said in a low voice, "Whatever has to be done you don't have to part of it."

"What exactly are you planning on doing?" Aaron asked in an accusatory tone.

"I think you know," she accused.

"You can't do that," he shook his head.

"I can't call the police either," she replied, "And, like you pointed out, something has to be done."

"Not that," he shook his head again, "Not that."

"You don't have to be a part of this," she reminded him, "Maria's not going to jail because of my stupidity." She looked reassuringly at Maria. Aaron always wanted to do the right thing but there wasn't an option here that would leave him with a clear conscience.

"What about his family?" Aaron asked.

"We don't know his life story," Isabella answered him.

"What's his name?" I asked. All I had to do was call someone. Isabella shook her head. I looked at the door the same time Aaron did.

"How did he get in?" he asked before I could.

"I let him in," Isabella answered.

"You let a man into your house without knowing his name?" he started out loudly but ended up hissing. It would not be good to have the neighbors calling in a disturbance. "And judging by the hour," he continued, "I'm assuming he didn't claim to be a Jehovah's Witness to gain access. Hell he'd probably be outside if he did."

"Why would you let a stranger in at this ungodly hour?" I asked her.

"It's not hard to figure out," she pointed to her unclad upper body.

"You let a man into your pants without knowing so much as his name!" it was my turn to be loud.

"You're a fine one to talk," she hissed. "You've had more tail than worn out jeans."

"No one tried to kill me," I realised that wasn't true before I finished that sentence. She gave me a stiff smile to show that she realised it too. Aaron's betraying side glance didn't help either. She still shouldn't have done it.

"Let's say both of you have learned your lesson and move on," Aaron cut in.

"What do we do now?" Maria spoke for the first time that night.

"We do what anybody would do with a dead body," Isabella started moving towards the bedroom, "We bury it."

"Are we really going to bury John Doe in a shallow grave?" Aaron asked.

"Of course not," Isabella replied. "We're going to bury him in the cemetery along with all the other dead people." She went into the room and came back wearing a black t-shirt. "You don't have to be part of this." She said, more to me this time.

"He tried to kill the mother of my children. He made me part of this," I told her.

"Go to bed," she said to Maria. She looked like she might protest but complied.

"Go home," I said to Aaron.

"I'm in this as much as any person in this room," he said somberly.

"Go adjust the seats in the car," I instructed.

"The kids will smell dead body all over that car in the morning," Isabella shook her head.

"They're bound to find out either way and we don't have many options," Aaron replied, "Seeing as everyone in this household is so fond of public transport."

"Fuck you," she mumbled.

"I call shotgun," he said. Trust Aaron to think of that.

"You're driving," I threw him the keys. He caught them and put them in his pocket. He followed me as I went into the bedroom Isabella used. "I've got this," I told him. "Go start the car." He complied.

"I'm sorry," Isabella said when he was gone, "That you have to commit a crime and lie to your best friend."

"You didn't ask for this," I rubbed her shoulder, "You were reckless but you didn't deserve this." I tucked her hair behind her ear and went into the room. I picked up the lifeless body and slung it over my shoulder. The rigors had not yet started. Isabella opened the door and I went and put him in the backseat. "You take shotgun." I didn't want her riding with a dead body. My protectiveness was unnecessary but I couldn't help it. Isabella had a shovel in her lap. Maria had a vegetable garden in the back. I doubt she'd want to use it for that after tonight.

The ride to the cemetery was silent. There was no appropriate conversation for when you have a body in the car and you're going to bury it without informing any authorities. We were met by a locked gate at the cemetery. "Perfect," Aaron mumbled. Isabella got out of the car and had the locks open before we knew what she was doing. "You pick locks," Aaron pointed out when she came back into the car. She made no response.

Isabella found an empty grave and removed the cover. I instructed Aaron to go help her while I carried a body that was getting increasingly heavy behind him. I stood the body upright and pushed it back. It landed fairly closely to the middle of the grave. There was a moment of silence and apprehension before Aaron took the shovel and handed it to Isabella. "I think you should do the honours," he said.

"Don't be snarky," I grabbed it out of his hands, "This was not murder," I reminded him, "It was self-defence and you don't have to be here." He folded his arms as I started shovelling dirt into the hole.

"Stop," Isabella said and then jumped in before I could stop her.

"What are you doing?" I asked as she started kicking dirt around.

"Levelling it out," she answered.

"Have you done this before?" Aaron asked.

"Don't pretend you didn't notice that the grave looked tempered with," she said before I could talk. She stomped around in there for a good thirty minutes. Aaron used the shovel to get the dug up soil to resemble what it had been before we touched it.

"Have you done this before?" I asked to make a point. He didn't respond. It wasn't necessary for him to. We lifted Isabella out of the hole and left, after having replaced the padlock.

"I'm going back with you," she looked back at me, "The car needs to be cleaned and so does that suit."

Aaron shook his head but held his tongue. He came with us and helped wipe everything down. Isabella's shoes and pants went into a black bag along with my suit. Aaron offered to dispose of them. Hospitals had to get rid of items of clothing all the time. I gave him keys to one of the cars in the garage but he seemed reluctant to leave. He eventually asked that I walk him to the door. "What makes you think she won't do the same to you?" he asked when Isabella was out of earshot.

"I wouldn't try to kill her," I answered.

"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it," he said, "That man was not hit with a gun." He continued when I didn't answer.

"I won't even mention having children together because even if we didn't she'd never have reason to," I told him. Denying something once Aaron had noticed it was useless.

"So that's why you wanted me out of there after you did the examination," he figured out.

"Goodnight Aaron," I started pulling the door closed.

"Goodnight Charles," he pulled his coat closed, "Tell the black widow I said goodnight."

"Fuck you," I closed the door. When Isabella had finished her coffee I led her to her original room. I couldn't bring myself to let her out of my sight so I grabbed her hand as she entered. "Stay with me tonight." I whispered.

"Even after everything?" she said sadly.

"Especially after everything," I pulled her to me, "You're not the same person you used to be and I don't know everything about the person you are now but I know in my heart that you're a good person. What happened tonight was unfortunate but I can't feel sad about it because you're okay. That's what matters to me. That you're okay." I heard her sob. Ending someone's life is hard, even when they deserve it. I carried her to my room and laid her down on the bed. She clung to me and I to her till she stopped crying and sook another form of comfort.


	18. Chapter 18

**CPV**

Isabella had been quiet for some time now and her breathing was slow and even. I thought she was asleep, till she moved her hands to my face and started to kiss me. "What are you doing?" I asked her.

"I'll give you three guesses but the first two don't count," she replied and pulled me to her again. My dick was getting ahead of itself. Treacherous bastard.

"Look you're vulnerable right now," I pulled back. Doing the right thing sucks.

"Shut up and kiss me you stupid saint," she offered me her lips, since I had her firmly anchored where she was. I leaned in despite my better judgement. I kept her firmly in place and kissed her, a gentle kiss that was over before it could get anywhere good. No, I can't think like that.

"Good night Isabella," I said firmly. She pulled away from me and got up. She walked to the bathroom before I knew what was going on. I followed her. The look on her face was haunting me. I got there just before she could slam the door in my face. She was crying. "It's gonna be okay," I tried to comfort her. She just backed away.

"No," she said bitterly, "It's not."

"I know someone who can help you," I stepped carefully towards her.

"And who, Charles, can make you want me?" I was stumped. I just looked at her. She faced away from me and told me to leave.

"You know it's not like that," I walked up to her but I didn't touch her. I wasn't sure what exactly was happening here.

"I don't know any such thing," she shook her head slightly. She sounded so sad. "I'm not asking you to love me Charles." _Too bad. _"I just want some sex. I tried picking a guy in a bar but that didn't work out so well." _Rather than let her get it elsewhere…_ a voice started to whisper in my ear.

"I can't do that with you," I confessed. I wanted so much more.

"You do it with Kindle," she turned, "So what? I have to be six feet tall and have breasts that can fill Ds? Is that it?" her shoulders rose in question.

"No but it would be nice if you didn't regret it," now I sounded bitter.

"What are you talking about?" her brows knitted.

"I saw you, crying in that very bath with the water running. How do you think it made me feel to make you feel like that? That you regretted it enough that it came to tears." I regretted that as soon as I'd said it. I didn't want to make her feel guilty.

She laughed, shaking her head, it didn't look like humour though. "The first guy I ever slept with dumped me two days later, the second within twenty four hours and the history doesn't get any prettier. I have abandonment issues," she ended up yelling. _Oh. _I hadn't thought of that. "Is that why you wouldn't touch me?" she asked in a small voice. It came to me that while I was trying to be a gentleman I'd succeeded in being an asshole. "Sex always ends in disaster for me, always." She said looking at the floor.

"I never thought…" I trailed off.

"Yeah well now you know," she shrugged, "Finding out you carried a torch for your dead wife made it easier to live with but not much because all the disasters that come about after I sleep with a guy have me in common."

"Then there's something wrong in the world," I said honestly, "Because you deserve some to make you happy and you're great in bed." I'm an idiot. "Shit. I didn't mean to say that out loud." I tried to apologise but she was blushing more than anything else. I reached for her face, this time she let me, and I wiped away her remaining tears. I kissed her forehead and then remembered something.

"What made you think I was carrying a torch for Crystal?" I asked.

"Besides the fact that your first ex wife looks like her? She told me." She answered. How to tell her this?

"I married miserably Isabella," I confessed. "Present company excluded," I clarified when I saw her tonguing her cheek. "Don't believe a single word Rosemary says. The woman's a sociopath. And I hated Crystal." I really did.

"Of course, that's why a lot of the women you sleep with are modelled after her," she mumbled sarcastically.

"Actually she ruined women with green eyes for me," I said.

"What made you hate her?" she asked. I did not want to talk that. It would lead to more things I didn't want to talk about regarding her.

"Crystal was even more malicious than Rosemary and she was cunning. She had no boundaries. There isn't a single person she didn't step on to get what she wanted," I shook my head at the memories.

"What aren't you telling me?" she asked sitting on the edge of the bath. "I can hear the hatred in your voice and what you just said doesn't warrant that much of it. I never thought you were capable of hating someone." She tacked on. I could tell that was a thought.

"Neither did I," I went to sit down beside her. "Not until I got to know who I'd married. Crystal wanted my money but she wanted to spend it with someone else. We had a prenup so she wouldn't get a lot of it if she divorced me. She wanted it gone without making me suspicious. There weren't a lot of ways she could do that, especially by herself. She decided to go for Aaron, who barely tolerated her." She was listening with interest.

"She knew better than to ask or even bribe him so she skipped to blackmail. She slept with him-"

"No way," she shook her head, "Pious as he is?"

"Crystal's resourceful. And it really is amazing what whiskey and blue pills can do," I shook my head. I'd been pretty pissed about it.

"What did he do?" she asked.

"What only Aaron would do. Called her bluff," I heard her chuckle. "She couldn't tell me either because that wouldn't help her cause. She moved on to my father." Isabella was shaking her head. "Crystal was a beautiful woman with skill at manipulating people and a whore at heart. And a judge was a good accomplice. My father's parenting abilities convinced me never to have kids. I never wanted the details to that one but she managed it.

"He decided that he did want to be a parent after all and helped her. He came up with his own scheme though. He had her investigated and found out about her affair. What good old Judge didn't know is that I had a mistress. Crystal did. We were stuck. She wouldn't get all my money in a divorce when we were both vilified. I couldn't divorce her because she'd probably get half," I paused and sighed, "There is no end to the misery brought about by Crystal."

"You don't say," she shook her head. "How did she die?"

"She was strangled," I replied, "Didn't you read about it?"

"I did," she replied and was silent. She was asking me something and I didn't know how to answer. She put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed. "You were a suspect at some point. There was a preliminary hearing but not enough evidence for it to be taken to court." I nodded. "Are you going to make me ask?" she said into my shoulder.

"Yes," I said.

"What question are you saying yes to?" I asked. I took a deep breath. We'd made so much progress tonight. I even had hope at some point that we would get back together and then this came up. There's a reason I never talk about Crystal. Even death cannot put an end to her destruction. If I thought she'd believe me I'd lie.

"I never made a will," I started the explanation, "I was twenty seven and I still thought I'd live forever. On top of that I had no one I had to provide for upon my death. Even when I realised just how rotten Crystal was I didn't think she'd go so far as to try to kill me. I was in France. We'd bought a house there at some point. I was alone and I'm sure she knew that. She tried to kill me herself. I don't think she trusted anyone else enough.

She was going to shoot me but she had to do it at close range because I was sitting by the door and it would be a little hard trying to shoot me through a wall. Apparently Jujitsu was not as useless as I thought it would be." I stopped there. I wouldn't say it.

"You're a better man than you think you are," she shocked me. "She died three days later in New York. That means you let her go, even knowing that she wanted to kill you and probably wouldn't back down." She rubbed my back.

"The damage was already done," I thought out loud, "And I wanted her to die."

"And I'm not exactly heartbroken that she's dead. Stop making yourself out to be the bad guy," she got up and hugged me. My head was on her abdomen. Well, she took that in the best spirit. I put my arms around her and leaned into her. I felt relief. I didn't have to be afraid of Crystal ruining us.

"Is it really sick to be glad you're not hung up on her?" she asked into my hair.

"Yes but I'm more glad you don't regret the night we spent together and relieved I don't repulse you. If anything I'm equally sick." I responded.

She let go and started pulling me back into the bedroom. "Let's forget about dead people," she said slipping into bed. "It's nearly light out. Let's go to bed." She faced away from me and I wrapped myself around her. Soon she was asleep. I propped myself up to look at her. She looked peaceful despite the night's events. I moved her hair out of her face and kissed her cheek. I went to sleep soon after she did.

**BPV**

"Morning kids," I greeted them in a quiet voice so they'd know to keep it down.

"Are you coming home?" Eli wanted to know.

"We'll see," I told them.

"What's there to see?" Anthony asked.

"A lot," I replied, "And don't take that tone with me. Your father and I need to learn to communicate, apparently, and various other things before we can go back to the way things were," I worded as logically as I could.

"You can learn that here," Anthony went on.

"What did I say to you about that tone?" I asked him.

"I'm sorry. I just don't understand," he replied.

"Building a…" what we were building? Were we even building it? "Relationship" of whatever form "Is like building anything else. You need to build the components first. I'm building me," I explained.

"What is it with women and independence?" Eli asked. He seemed genuinely curious.

"Wait until you… eighteen in terms of the world and you'll see what independence is all about," I told him. "Don't wake him," I said as Eli pulled up the covers at Charles' feet. "He's tired. Let him sleep."

"So you're gonna stay in bed until he wakes up?" Eli asked.

"Or his arms drop off," I answered stroking his forearm.

"We're going to visit friends," Anthony slunk towards the door.

"Not at eight in the morning," I said trying to adjusting my position without much luck.

"We'll go at nine," Eli said following his brother.

"I want to meet them," I said.

"No you don't," Anthony contradicted from the other side of the door.

"But I should," I whispered knowing he would hear me. Charles did not wake up until I fell asleep again.

**CPV**

I woke up and instinctively tightened my arms around Isabella. She was even more beautiful in the glow of the sun and she was still here. Though we buried a body together it's not easy to overlook killing a wife, even if she was Satan. I truly didn't care what she'd done and it seemed like she wasn't bothered by the darkest thing in my past.

"Charles," she whispered and wrapped her leg around me. Her fingers dug into my skin. She pressed her body into mine. Only when she started moaning did I figure out what was happening. I was hard in seconds. I was also over the moon. She wasn't just having a sex dream, she was having one about me. The moaning got louder. I needed to get out of here before I did something really, really stupid.

I went into the bathroom. I couldn't here her from there but my erection was going nowhere. I gave up and pulled it out of my shorts. A quick glance around the bathroom brought hand moisturiser to my attention. I put some in my hand and started pumping myself hard and fast. I played back the night I'd spent with Isabella in vivid detail.

"Oh!" she said from the door. I have never been so mortified in my life. I froze, my head bowed. I couldn't look at her. Suddenly she appeared in my line of sight. She removed my hand and took me into her mouth. I couldn't help but cry out. She moaned. I felt the vibrations in my member. And then it was over. I tried to pull her back when I came but she held my hand and sucked harder. Fuck! I held on to the wall. It felt like my legs would give in. She didn't stop. I remained erect. I pushed her off with more force than I thought I would use. She was on her knees. I knelt beside her and pushed her back onto the bathroom floor.

She was in the t-shirt she slept in. I didn't bother pulling her panties down instead I pulled the crotch to the side. Her legs just fell open and she was so wet. I remembered she had a sex dream five minutes ago. I wasn't the only frustrated one. I entered her swiftly and lifted her ass so I could go deeper. I had wanted this for a long time. I got on my knees and put one hand on her breast. My other hand pushed one of her legs to the side. It went farther than I thought it would. Her pubic hair was still light and now she was open to me.

She screamed my name and I knew what was coming. I thrust into her harder and faster. I leaned over her when she started coming. I couldn't resist looking at her face. There was no better music than my name in her lust filled voice. I called her name when I came but my mouth apparently wasn't done talking because afterwards something else came out. "I love you."


	19. Chapter 19

**Thank you so much Olga for your review. Like the last one, it is truly fabulous.**

**Yes, they bond in bizarre ways, don't they? That's the story of their relationship. You'll find out what happened to Bella later on in the story and maybe where she learned to do what she can do. I'll write a more detailed story about that part of her life some time in the future. You're also going to find out how she's involved with the murders and why. I'm not entirely sure when that will happed. I can provide satisfaction on one thing though. You're going to meet Cain very soon. **

**APV**

I rushed down the hall to find Charles waiting for me in my office. He was sitting in my chair with his hand in his hair. "What happened?" I asked before I could give myself a heart attack.

"I told her I loved her," he said to my desk. This was a joke, right?

"Do you know what urgent page means?" I said louder than I'd intended.

"It's the thing that gets your attention when I'm losing my mind," he answered. I closed the door firmly then walked and stood in front of my desk.

"Yesterday we buried a body in a manner I'm certain the law disapproves of," I started.

"I'm so sorry we're not getting arrested," he said in a way I would have found funny on any other day.

"I've been in surgery for past five hours and last night's activities didn't help me sleep. I'm tired Charles," I fell into the chair in front of him.

"Fine," he sighed and started getting up.

"She didn't say it back," I guessed.

"No," he shook his head, "She didn't. She pretended not to have heard me."

"What makes you sure it was pretence?" I asked.

"I saw it in her eyes that she'd heard me. She didn't exactly look happy either," he told me dejectedly.

"Maybe it was the timing. She couldn't have been in a good space after…," I scoffed at my own attempt at comfort. She wasn't exactly a delicate flower.

"It was this morning," he went on, "And yes the timing was still bad. I didn't mean… it just came out."

"Because those words come up in conversation very easily," I said sarcastically, "Especially for you." It was one thing for him to admit it to me. To admit it to her was a complete other thing.

"It wasn't exactly a conversation," he mumbled sitting back down.

"What? You just blurted that out?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied, "Along with her name and various other sounds." He didn't.

"You slept with her?" I was shocked. It was stupid of me but I wasn't expecting it.

"Stop saying that like it's a bad thing," he leaned back.

"It's a wonderful thing," I went heavy on the sarcasm, "So wonderful that after each time it happens you come into this office with a problem."

"The first time doesn't count. I completely misunderstood," he said as if that would make things smoother in the future.

"What was there to misunderstand?" I was honestly curious. What other explanation could there have been.

"She thought it would ruin things between us since that happened a lot in her past," he explained. So she didn't want her relationship with Charles jeopardised. What the hell was her problem then?

"Maybe she feels the same way about confessing your love," I ventured. "What's his face did claim to love her, right?" Instead of responding he looked at me thoughtfully.

"This is why I almost knocked your teeth out that night," he said after a while. That made no sense so I waited for him to continue. "You understand her more than I do. Besides being insanely jealous of that, it made it easier to think she'd rather be with you."

"She only tolerates me to make you happy," I repeated what he already knew, "That should tell you something."

"Yet she called you instead of me last night," he looked towards the window.

"Because she doesn't give a shit what I think of her," I stated.

"I want to be the one she calls," he said, "Even if it's to bury a body."

"You know very well it's not that simple," I replied, "Would you tell her about Crystal?" it was rhetorical.

"I did," he said in a soft voice, "And you're right. I only told her because I didn't have a choice." This was news.

"You didn't have a choice?" I prompted.

"We talked about a lot of things last night. My demonic first wife was one of them," he said.

"How'd she take it?" I asked then quickly added, "Not too badly since she has sex with you this morning. Honestly Charles, the woman kills a man, albeit self-defence, and not twelve hours later you bone her!"

"Bone her? Really?" he tilted his head at me.

"What? Have you never heard the word before?" I wanted to know what his problem was.

"You make it sound so cheap," he answered. Colour me purple!

"You've turned into those people who used to sicken you," I pointed out.

"And now I sicken you," he tacked on.

"No you don't," who was I kidding? "Yes you do. And remember what you said about people who profess love during sex?"

"Are you going to throw everything I've ever said back in my face?" he looked like he honestly wanted to know.

"Only until I get bored," I answered. He laughed. I know that wasn't funny, not from where he's standing. "What?" I asked.

"I had cereal for dinner," he told me, still laughing.

"Odd but not that funny," I said.

"Isabella has cereal for dinner. I missed her so much that I adopted her rituals just to make it fell like she was home," he shook his head at himself.

"You are pitiful," I shook mine.

"Asking her to move back in would be stupid, right?" he asked me what he well knew.

"I think you've scared her enough for one month," I concurred. Then I had to laugh. He looked at me questioningly and I was sure he did not want to hear what I was thinking. "Your Isabella is a strange woman. She remains calm enough in a deadly situation and yet she's scared senseless by a declaration of love."

"My Isabella," he smiled.

"Of course that's the part you heard," I shook my head. "Crawford no longer has to scare his own people, by the way ,his new PA is perfectly capable."

"I think I'm going to wander to the floor above this one," he was immediately excited. It was hard to trust a woman who could kill you with her bear hands but the happiness she brought to Charles made me want to. I really did want to.

**CPV**

I annoyed everyone by whistling in the lift. Isabella wasn't at her desk. She'd been called in to work. She was inside Crawford's office bent over something with him. I watched her through the glass door. She was pointing and explaining whatever was on the page. He said something, they laughed then stood straight. He offered her a cup of coffee, she declined. He walked around his desk and put his hand on the small of her back as she started for the door. _Okay, he needs to not do that._

He stopped her and said something else. She poked the air with her finger and retrieved something form the far side of the desk without going around. She had to bend over the desk and he stood behind her looking at her ass.

"Jack," I opened the door and he jumped a little. Isabella froze for one second then pulled something. "Can I steal… Miss King for lunch?" it was hard to get used to and I'd never thought of her as Miss King.

"Charles," he nodded, "I think we're done for now." He said reluctantly. Isabella smiled at me. A beautiful, warm smile. "Be so kind as to bring me something to eat," he turned to her, "I'm drowning today." _He wasn't seriously asking her to come back after he called her into work on a Sunday! _

"I hope you like your lunch cold," she scoffed.

"Watch it," he said as a warning.

"I keep this hospital, and your life, running like a well oiled machine," she smiled walking past him, "I'll mouth off all I like. Besides," she shrugged, "You'd be eating cold food everyday if it weren't for me."

He smiled too. It was contagious when she smiled, even when she was mocking you. A sliver of skin appeared between her top and pants as she walked out. It caught our attention. I stood there a little longer than necessary and watched her get ready to leave on the other side of the glass. "Don't even think about it Jack," I said as I passed through the door. His eyes narrowed. As much as he wanted to say something witty and defiant he couldn't. Admitting an attraction to an employee is always a bad idea and denying something so obvious would just be stupid.

"Let's go to a restaurant," she suggested.

"You hate eating out," I pointed out.

"Did I say anything about eating?" she smiled.

"I can go for that," I felt the smile spread over my face. "Let's run past surgical," I wanted to tell Aaron I wouldn't be having lunch with him and maybe thank him. He wasn't in his office. I made the mistake of stopping Kindle to ask where he was.

"I didn't realise you meant to take the _harem_ to lunch," Isabella commented before I could say anything.

"What?" Kindle turned to me in confusion.

"You two do lunch without me," Isabella smiled coldly. She moved her hand out of the way when I tried to hold it and walked away. I sighed. Our relationship is bipolar.

"This is the part where you go after her," Kindle said as if she were talking to a child.

"She'll get more pissed off," I slumped against the wall.

"You didn't tell her we weren't sleeping together anymore," she said as a thought.

"We were a little busy with…" _breaking into a cemetery and burying a body where another would be buried_ "other things." Her assumption caused her to shake her head. I didn't bother saying it wasn't like that. I'd been sleeping with her for ten years, she'd never believe me. "And she won't listen if I try to tell her now. Excuse me, I have to go sulk until she cools off."

"Oh my God," she said in a surprised tone.

"Aaron already told me how pitiful I am. Apparently it's a symptom of being in love," I started looking for an On Call Room.

"You're in love," more surprise.

"I'm not made of stone," I told her.

"You put on a convincing show for thirty seven years," she laughed and walked with me. "I don't get it," she shook her head. I waited in silence for her to continue. "She's young and pretty but she's a bitch."

"She is not a bitch," I contradicted.

"You don't work in this building," she pointed out. I almost hugged her but I was already in the dog box.

"Thank you Kindle," smiled and almost ran to the On Call Room.

"Will you let me sleep?" Aaron put a pillow over his head.

"That's no way to talk to your boss's boss's boss," I said into it.

"What are you talking about?" he asked. His curiosity would forever be my ally.

"I'm going to make a ridiculous donation to this hospital and ask that they make me chairman of the board. I have a Phd and my other business ventures haven't turned out too bad," I shared.

"In summary," he yawned, "You're going to pay an obscene amount of money to this hospital, sell yourself as chairman of the board all so that you can work in the same building with one Isabella King."

"And maybe cure discoid lupus," I added.

"You're a sap. Go away," he turned to face the other way. I went to find Isabella. I turned the corner just in time to see her disappear into a linen closet with some kid in scrubs. I wasn't going to let that happen. I reminded myself that the last time I flew into a jealous rage I ended up divorced then I sped to the door and entered.

They separated when I entered. "You," I pointed to the little punk, "Out." I pointed back over my shoulder with my thumb. He seemed lost for a second, looked between Isabella and myself, and decided he wanted no part in this. She had her hands folded, waiting, I'm betting, for me to say something really stupid. Suddenly I didn't know what to say.

"I want us to be exclusive," I said. It wasn't the most eloquent thing I've ever said but how else could I have put it?

"No, you want me to be exclusive and you do whatever the fuck you like," she replied.

"I stopped sleeping with Kindle. I didn't get a chance to tell you with all that's happened," I started. I walked closer to her and put my hands on her cheek. When she did not protest, I continued, "I love you Isabella. I don't want to be with anyone else and I can't stand the thought of another man with his hands on you."

"Don't say it," she looked at me sadly.

"That I love you?" I asked.

"Don't say it," she shook her head again.

"I feel it," that didn't sound like enough, "It consumes me Isabella, I love you." A tear slid down her eye and she tilted her face to me. I kissed her gently. She clung to me as though I would disappear but her returning kiss was gentle. I lifted her into my arms and pressed her up against a wall. I supported her weight with one hand and unbuttoned her top with the other. I reached in and cupped her breast. "These are the perfect size by the way," I squeezed. They really were. She laughed lightly and kissed me harder. Then two security guards walked in with the intern who'd just left.

"You're not allowed to be in here," one said after an awkward moment.

"Can you give us five minutes?" Isabella said in a tone that made me uncertain as to whether she was serious or not. I pulled her down and stood between her and our male audience while she buttoned up. I took her by the hand and led her out. When we were outside I decided to tell her.

"I had an idea," I paused. She listened. "I wanted to become chairman of the hospital's board but be a little more hands on, have my own office here in the building."

"Why don't you go back to practising medicine?" she asked when I finished.

"Being a doctor made me unhappy," I answered.

"And who's going to see to it that the Bass empire doesn't fall apart?" she asked.

"I'll find someone. Don't you want me to work here?" I was suddenly worried.

"It's not that," she touched the side of my face, "I just want to know that you've thought through."

"I have," I kissed her palm.

"I'm going to be your employee," she warned.

"We won't have a direct working relationship," I'd thought of that too. "I'll see you everyday." I thought out loud with a smile. She kissed my cheek.

"Wanna go eat in the morgue?" she asked.

"The morgue?" I wanted to make sure I'd heard right.

"It's essentially a big refrigerator," she shrugged. I followed her down to the morgue. She took a lunch box out of an empty drawer. Chocolate brownies and mint ice-cream. It was the first time I'd seen her use a spoon. She fed me while chewing the first mouthful with her eyes closed. Some of it ended up on the side of my lip and she licked it off. "It's really good, right?" she said taking another mouthful then licking the spoon.

"Yes it is," I agreed.

"I never figured Kindle for the baking and cooking type but she's really good," she laughed.

"She made this for you?" I must say I'm surprised.

"No," she scoffed, "I stole it from the fridge. It's actually even better when she brings warm brownies and buys the ice-cream here."

"How long have you been stealing Kindle's treats?" I asked with a smile.

"She brought in brownies for some reason or another and I had one. Then I saw these in the fridge when I went to get Crawford's lunch. I couldn't resist. Oh and she makes the best two cheese lasagne," she kept eating.

"Where does she think her food is going?" I asked. This was just too funny for words.

"Fuck knows," she laughed. I just shook my head and kissed her. I would have teased her about preferring Kindle's cooking but that didn't seem appropriate at present. After lunch in the morgue I walked her back to Crawford's office and kissed her in the doorway.

"I'm going to be a little late today," I told her, "I'm going to be working on that proposal I told you about.

She smiled and nodded, then she leaned into me and said, "You might as well have just pissed on my leg." I kissed her again until Crawford cleared his throat and said, "For the love of God Charles."

"This is much more fun," I whispered and then went to work on the proposal that would start the worst hell we'd been through yet.


	20. Chapter 20

**AN: I can explain! I was planting corn in the village where not only is there no network coverage but my grandmother is a slave-driver. (I do not fuck with you here.) Again, Thank you Olgo for the review, it gives me a lot to work with.**

**CPV**

"Now have to buy a new vase," I laughed into her hair. It no longer smelled like strawberries but it was still intoxicating.

"I think we can afford it," she laughed, pinned between my body and the wall. She was still about seventy percent of my clothing. The portions of mine I'd taken off were around my ankles. Our bodies rubbed together as I carried her onto the bed. My thoughts were no longer plutonic. She gave a little laugh as I brushed my teeth along the smooth skin of her stomach.

I lowered my hand slowly to her underwear. I hadn't even bothered to take it off earlier. She tried to flip me over. I wasn't having that. I had never been so close to this particular part of her anatomy, not with my face. "What the fuck is this?" I tried to contain my anger.

"If I tell you to leave it alone," she sighed, "Will you listen to me?"

"No," I stated the obvious. She pulled her underwear up and sat up. I thought it wise to do the same. She had a scar. It was fading now but you could still tell it was a repair on a stab. This is the kind of thing you only expect to hear about when studying the history of Nero. I wanted to kick myself for not noticing this sooner.

"Cain," it suddenly occurred to me. "Cain did that to you."

"No," she ran he hand across her forehead, "Cain didn't do that to me. I did that to me."

"I don't believe that," I held her hand.

"That's because you don't know what it's like to have death be the best possible thing that could happen to you," she told me. There was no resentment in that statement, to her it was just that, a statement.

"What happened to you, Isabella?" I cupped her face. She just leaned into my hand and closed her eyes.

"Do you really want to know?" she opened her eyes, "There won't be a thing you can do about it. What's the point?"

"The point is that I love you," I brushed her hair back and made her look at me, "I want to know what I should and should not do to make you as happy as I can. I don't want you to flinch when I say or do something."

For a long moment she looked at me, like she was studying me, "I want to share myself you Charles but a lot of it is…," I only responded by brushing her arm, "I eat in the morgue everyday, even when I haven't raided the fridge. There was this room he'd put me in when I'd pissed him off. There was only a table and chairs in it. He'd tie a leash around my neck and tie it to the leg of the table.

He'd leave me under there for days. He wouldn't talk to me or feed me. All I would here the entire time he was there was the sound of cutting. I cannot, to this day, stand the sounds of forks and baby don't cry," she sat on top of me and wiped away my tears. "It's okay now," she put her hands around me in comfort. This was the wrong way around.

"What's his last name?" I asked when the tears had stopped flowing and we were holding each other in silence.

"No," firm and sure. "Charles, I said no."

"I take it his still alive then," I published my findings.

"Listen to me," I felt her fingers did into my skull as she pushed my face back to look into my eyes. "The best thing you can do for yourself and this family is pretend to have never heard that word. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes," I nodded. Arguing about it certainly wouldn't help.

"You," she kissed my cheek, "Are a knight in shining Armani but this dragon is out of your league."

"You don't know my league," I pointed out.

"I know your league has a heart. You've given me my sanity back and somewhat restored my faith in humanity. That's more than enough for me. It'll have to be enough for you too," she let her fingers slide through my hair.

"What if he comes to find you?" I asked.

"If he was going to, he would have by now," she answered, she spoke too soon. "Enough of Cain, please. He's a plague, okay? A plague not many people survive. You know what I could really go for right now?" she suddenly brightened, "Ice-cream."

"It's past midnight," I pointed out the time.

"It's in the fridge, come on," she got up and led me by the hand. It was a distraction and an obvious one at that but if she wanted it left alone then alone I would leave it, for now.

"I call dibs on the rum and raisin," she called to Aaron.

"Not all of us are twenty Isabella, we do not call dibs," he took out the exact container she was talking about.

"You can either surrender the ice-cream or that key you let yourself in with," she put out her hands. He looked at me. I looked at the ceiling.

"I wanted the blueberry anyway," he mumbled.

"What brings you by at this ungodly hour?" I quietly pulled out a spoon and the vanilla ice-cream.

"I'm avoiding someone who knows where I live and is currently trying to convince me to take a million dollar bribe to operate on his son who has a tumour the size of Asia wrapped around his heart," Aaron got out before he dug in.

"Is it inoperable?" I asked.

"No and I'm going to operate, I just don't want the bride," he answered, making Isabella laugh.

"But why bribe you then?" it made no sense.

"You're the expert on bribery," he pointed with his spoon.

"I know nothing about unnecessary bribery," I lifted my shoulders.

"Says the man with the billion dollar divorce settlement," Aaron said under his breath.

"Take the bribe," Isabella cut in.

"No, I am not taking a damn bribe," Aaron said after he'd looked at her long enough to see that she was serious.

"If a stranger was going to cut into my kid's chest, I'd do what ever was in my power to make sure they were committed," she explained.

"I am committed," Aaron insisted.

"He doesn't know that," she put her bowl down, "I'm going out for some air. You guys bond of whatever middle aged men do."

"I'm not middle-aged. Life expectancy hasn't gone that far to hell," I grabbed her face and kissed her long enough for Aaron try to send us to our room.

"I see all is once again well in your tumultuous little paradise," he noted.

"One day you're going to use that key to get into this kitchen and then vow never to use this kitchen again," I warned him.

"Thank you Charles for that vivid picture of you entwined with a woman almost twice your aged and yes, I can still eat," he sang.

"What does her age have to do with this?" I wanted to know.

"You're right, I shouldn't concentrate on age when I have facts like you're a hundred and ten pounds heavier than she is and over a foot taller, not to mention you look like an advert for tanning lotion and she's snow white," the SOB was enjoying himself, "But wait there's more," he announced grandly, "You used to be a doctor and she's killed eight people that we know of."

"Is there some point you're trying to make," I'd had enough of the song and dance.

"No," he raised his shoulders, "I would say guard thy heart but it seems moot."

"I'm going back to bed," I got up.

"Charles, I know you to be a perfectly reasonable man," he started, "What is it about her that makes you lose your mind?"

"I don't know Aaron. I could ask you the very same question," I left him to think about that one.

"I'm staying the night," he called.

"Feel free to sleep on the couch," I called back. I was uneasy about letting Isabella wonder around alone at night but it was a big property and I didn't think she would walk far enough off it to be in danger.

"Stop pacing, you're giving me a headache," Aaron put his hands on his temples. "She's probably just lost track of time."

"You don't believe that," I could see the worry increase in his eyes, "If you did, you'd be asleep right now."

While he was thinking of a clever remark to display nonchalance, there was a knock on the door. I just prayed it wasn't the police. It couldn't be Isabella, she wouldn't knock.

"Yes," I said impatiently as a man in a dark expansive suit stood in front of my front door and said absolutely nothing.

"You wife is being held as security," he said like he was saying something completely normal, "If the surgery goes well she will be released to you unharmed." He took out her picture. She was in the clothes she left in, tied to a chair, gagged and blindfolded. I felt the cold claws of fear wrap themselves around my heart.

"I'll kill you," I grabbed him.

"She won't return as pretty if you do that," he smiled. As much as I wanted to break his nose, I wanted to break Aaron's more. "Surgery commences at nine this morning. Get rested." He recommended to Aaron and then turned on his heal.

"Maybe I should have taken that bribe, huh?" he scratched his head.

"If you didn't need your fingers to perform the surgery I would break all of them," I hissed, "You better walk on water."

"I will," he promised.

"Here's one: interact with people socially so that the next time someone wants to threaten you then can kidnap your girlfriend!" I ended up shouting.

"I'll save the kid," he put his on my shoulder.

"Yes, you will," I walked past him and dialled. I was met with dead ends all around. By five the next day I was so frustrated I locked myself in the room to keep from struggling my stupid well-meaning best friend.

**BPV**

"This is your idea of chinese?" I spit.

"You are a pain in the ass hostage and you're lucky we have orders not to touch you," John said from behind his newspaper.

"You touched me," I went on.

"Would you rather I'd not stitched you up?" he peaked.

"I want chinese, better chinese," I threw the cardboard box at him. Poor bastard wasn't allowed to tie me up or gag me. "Get me chinese John." I smiled.

He smiled back and made the call, "You're going to get your damn food and stop calling me John."

"Well you won't tell me your name and John Doe is the standard," I explained.

"Do me a favour-"

"Not shutting up, sorry. That's the deal, you use me as collateral, you take my shit," I weighed the two things in my hands for him.

"What's in this for you?" he shook his head.

"A life lesson learned the easy way. A friend of mine needs to know not to always be so righteous and not to fuck with certain people before he fucks with the wrong people and ends up at the bottom of the river," I explained.

"What if the kid dies?" he was intrigued.

"Aaron won't let the kid die," I was sure. "And even if he should die, I don't think you can hold me here."

"We can call the police," he put his legs up.

"And tell them you kidnapped me from my way to dropping off my hostage? It might get me into trouble but I went alone to drop him off so you don't know where he is ergo can't prove that I have one. A plus for you is stitching me up but it goes downhill where you took a picture of me bound and gagged. Any person who see's it will assume it happened longer than is true. You can tell them it was my idea but being stitched up and limping does not coincide with that. Plus-"

"Do me a favour?" he clearly meant for it to be rhetorical this time.

"Not shutting up" I informed him again.

"What time is it?" he sighed.

"Nine," I told him, "But the surgery is going to take a few hours." I smiled. "Your headphones are broken." I pulled them out of my pocket and dangled them when I saw him look in his pocket.

"What do you get out annoying me?" his brows knitted.

"A sense of Karma. I missed work and my boss can be very verbose about such things," I tilted my head. The return of my former captor is making me nuerotic_._

It's funny how you don't get something until you truly have no desire of it. Right at the beginning of the escape plan I'd planned to go back for him, make him pay. I could never find him and I wanted him to find me. I didn't have to litter the states with his friends but it was different then. He would have only come after me.

Now he'll see that I have a family. That I'm part of something beautiful, not just putting myself in the middle of it. Leaving would be the most merciful end for those who were not yet tainted by Cain… but I was not that girl anymore. Living without family, specifically this family, let me know what life would be like without them. It was a dark picture. I made a mental note to take the kids to a hockey game and listen to them mock the athletes.

"I'll make you a deal," I got up and went to John, "I'll leave you alone if you let me leave. Before you tell me you can't do that, I don't actually have to be here for them to believe that I am. And since I've agreed to this we shouldn't have a problem."

"Go," he waved me off. "Bye Jane."

"Bye John," I brushed his shoulder. I had a hostage to interrogate. I'd dropped him off a warehouse in a... quiet area. Now I have to come up with an explanation for the limp caused by a fight. The stitches down the back of my left hand arm weren't going to help. "Good thing you stopped screaming. You must be parched," I Gave him a bottle of water that he met with distrust.

"I'm not going to poison you, I need you to talk," I passed him the water and he drank it. I told him not to scream. "Where is he?"

"I don't know who you're talking about," he shook his head. He looked so believable I would have believed him if he hadn't sliced my arm open.

"Okay," I didn't want to argue, "You have two options: door number 1) you tell me who sent you, door number 2) I cut you up into exactly forty little pieces and you stay alive."

"Alive? Really?" he said eargerly.

"Fine," I pulled out and opened the knife, "Custom made," I waved it. It really was. It just belonged to the other guy who tried to stab me this month. "Which little piggy is going to go first?" I started to pull off his left shoe.

"I have a bigger piggy a little higher," he said suggestively. I was really going to have to torture this guy. So I unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down. I froze at what I saw, Genesis 18:19, on his whites and tights.

"Custom made," he laughed. I threw the knife across the room before I could stab him and I punched him till I my knuckles bled. I tore off the bottom of his shirt and tied it around the cuts. He was losing consiouness but slowly enough that I knew he would hear.

"Tell him it's going to be one hell of a dogfight," I smiled and walked away.

**CPV**

"Where is she?" I paced.

"Here," she stumbled in, or might have been pushed.

"Pleasure doing business with you gentlemen," the man from earlier in the day nodded and left.

"Are you okay?" I asked her.

"I just got a stamp on my kidnapping passport, I'm great. If I may just speak to Aaron," he came closer, almost like he was afraid, "I told you so!" she screamed in his ear. He was in a quiet, take everything you dish at me mood.

"Hey, your knuckles," I examined her.

"I may not have been the most willing of kidnap victims. Don't worry, I'm great," she kissed me. "I'm going to go home to sleep. The chair was a little uncomfortable." she looked at Aaron out of the corner of her eye.

"I'll come with you," I get my coat.

"How about you go check if I still have a job," she'd taken this in the best spirit, "I'll wait here, in the morgue, with Aaron." or she wanted to beat him to death. I was good with either one.

**APV**

"What have you done?" I asked as soon as Charles was out of the room, "You don't want to kill me and whatever fight you got into happened after you were. Your knuckles look just fine in the photo," I pointed out.

""I beat him up after he released me. It was either that or sue," she smiled mockingly.

I didn't even bother arguing. I couldn't find a logic sequence of events, let alone an explanation. I was reasonably certain no one had died and I was somewhere near the root of the problem so I let it go. I checked on my million dollar patient then went home.

**BPV**

"I don't need to be babysat," I said for the hundredth time.

"Where is my damn security guard?" Charles moved on.

_Probably a hospital if his other boss valued his life._ I couldn't say that and besides he wasn't really asking me. If the very guar at the gate was corrupt this could be bad.

"What the hell happened?" my children made an appearance.

"I had a disagreement with someone. It's sorted now," I thought quick.

"You were kidnapped?" Eli exclaimed.

"Head in the game Charles," how could I possibly lie to mind readers if he would give away the truth.

"I'm okay," I insisted, this was becoming less and like I'd imagined it, "All I need are antibiotics and some sleep," I yawned, "You can ask for all explanations from your father, I ducked into our room.

"Can't help you either," he started for the door, "I have six people to interview for my old job."

"They approved you for the position where mom works?" Eli's tone turned congratulatory.

"No but why wouldn't they," Charles answered. I could practically see Anthony shaking his head on the other side of the door. The conversation on the other side of the door faded away and I was able to sleep. I wouldn't have dreamed of doing that if I'd known Charles was interveiwing Cain to run his company.


	21. Chapter 21

**CPV**

"Isabella! Izzy!" I shouted in the lowest decibel that honours that word. She woke up. Not like most people wake up. Her eyes just opened like she'd been feigning sleep. The screaming disappeared, she just took a deep breath like a swimmer short of breath. "You're okay," I reassured her. "We're okay."

"What did I say?" she asked in a smooth, quiet voice. "What did I say?" she separated the words.

I sighed. Telling her wasn't my first choice but she would figure it out. It was her own brain she had to pick, it wouldn't be that hard. "Leave them alone. Don't touch my family. That's what you kept saying. What did you mean?" I kept my tone low.

"I meant exactly what I said," she smiled at the ceiling. It wasn't a real smile. It was completely mirthless.

"Don't do that," I pleaded, "Don't shut me out."

"You're my whole world," she wrapped her leg around my mine, "You, our kids, your stupid house pet, my stupid house pet, that's my whole world. Sometimes I fear I might lose it," she pushed her head off my shoulder and onto the pillow. "I need you to make me a promise." she looked like she was in serious pain.

"Anything," I promised stupidly.

"Forget Cain," she she put her hand on my cheek. "If you go after him he will destroy us. Not just you and me. Aaron, our kids, your girlfriend, your father. He doesn't stop."

"He won't touch them," I promised her.

"You don't know," she was on the verge of tears, "You don't know what he does to people." she sat up. "It wasn't just me. I wasn't the only hostage. And hostages weren't the ones he that walked away damaged."

"What do you mean?" I asked the same question I'd asked before.

"I tried to kill myself once," she turned away from me, "I understand the everyday pain of living in the rubble that was your life. I killed seven men out of mercy. The truth of what they did would have destroyed not just them but a lot of people that don't deserve it." she reached behind her head and touched my face. "He thinks like I think but he uses it for malice... for evil. If you go after him, Charles, we all go to hell. Leave him alone. If not for me, if not for anyone else then for your children." she sniffed.

"I will never think of him again," I wrapped my arms around her tightly. I felt her relax into me.

"What did you call me?" she asked in a low voice.

"What I always call you, Isabella." I answered.

"Don't lie to me Charles. You have a tell," I could see her look at me out of the corner of her eye.

"Izzy," I told her.

"Izzy," she smiled then took a deep breath. By the time she'd expelled all the air from her lungs she was asleep.

"There's something Mr Garrison wants you to read," Eli kissed his mother on the cheek and Anthony on the other. She took the envelope and pulled them back. They gave her confused looks. I laughed under my breath. I didn't see those looks very often. She hugged both of them tightly. It was cute. They were as tall as she was now, which wasn't very tall. "You guys have fun at school," she pushed them out of the door. A stray tear stained her cheek.

"I love you," I wiped it away. I couldn't let other things enter my mind with the kids right outside. She still didn't say it back. What I saw in her eyes was better. Those words no longer brought fear into them. They brought joy, and hope, and a world of things I wanted to give her everyday. She jumped into my arms, still in her slip. I caught her. My hand automatically went around to cup her ass. My head was immediately filled with images of-.

"Knock it off," Anthony shouted.

Isabella jumped down and closed her gown. "I should get to that proposal." I kissed her cheek. "Stay inside and take it easy. I'll talk to Crawford."

She stood at the door and waved us off. This was so suburban it was comical. "The picture in my head of mom barefoot and pregnant is..." Anthony looked for a word.

"Weird," Eli supplied.

"I can't picture it," Anthony shook his head. I could hear the effort to picture her in his voice.

"What was she like when she was pregnant?" he asked. I sighed and said nothing. "If you don't tell us, no one ever will. We may not be able to read her mind dad and you're usually good at not thinking about certain things but some are obvious. We have three hundred and sixty five Mondays. She treats most special days with mild disdain but birthdays with absolute abhorrence. Whatever you're going to tell me, I promise you it's not any worse than I already think."

"I wish I could say she glowed. That her cheeks filled out," I had no way out of this, "She was a rail. She had this pallor, like a cadaver. She couldn't keep anything down and she thought she was going to die. Her stomach was covered in bruises. Her ribs were cracking and we couldn't do much in the way of repairs. I thought she was going to die. The day you guys were born we all felt relief. Then we met you, and we felt love. It's not about your birthday," I hoped they would let it go.

"You know we won't," Eli almost laughed.

"Isabella's birthday was the day her life started going to hell. Mine was the day our marriage started going to hell. Aaron's family was massacred on his birthday, when he was seventeen. It's not just your mom. We don't do well with birthdays," I parked in front of the school, "But I'm sure we can work something out around yours."

"No," Anthony opened the door and they started to climb out, "That's... kinda morbid when you think about it in context."

"Football matches," Eli suddenly appeared at my window, "We're trying out."

"You're a bit on the small side," I smiled.

"We won't tackle anyone who weighs more than we do and we'll keep the speed down to eleven seconds per hundred yards," Anthony's face popped into the other window.

"Twelve point three. You're not trying out for the New York Jets," I revved the engine. There was light laughter until a teenage girl with thick raven hair walked into Aaron and dropped her books. They both bent down to pick them up. He got to them first. When he got up it was like he raised her by the power of his eyes.

"Morning Tony," she looked down and blushed.

"Morning," he handed her books back with a small sly smile.

"You hate that name," I blurted.

"Bye dad," he put his hand on the small of her back and turned away from me.

"There's so much you don't know," Eli laughed and slid over the hood of my car. I sat there smiling to myself. I didn't see them enough in this setting.

I came home two hours after I'd left the house. I wouldn't be running the company soon and Isabella would be home and probably half naked. And she was, she was also on her back on the table. There was just one addition I had not anticipated: Aaron. He was shirtless, bent over between her legs. I couldn't see her face but I heard her groan. Her clenched hand came up. I took a deep breath before I could lose it. That hadn't worked out so well for me the last time. So I tried a different approach.

"Morning," I said in a level voice from the kitchen door.

"Morning honey," she said in a strained voice.

"What are we doing this fine morning?" I wanted to walk closer but my feet remained rooted to the spot.

"Stitches," she yelled, then huffed.

"What happened?" my body became mobile.

" Fell on a sharp... stone," she dug her fingers into his shoulder. He groaned, then she cursed. I went to hold her hand. She'd cut the inside of her thigh, dangerously close to her femoral artery. Aaron was stitching carefully. They weren't in the best of light but the granite was their best bet at a sterile surface.

"You're stitching her with a hand sewing needle?" I hissed.

"Do you have a suture kit?"he looked up.

"Eyes on your work," I told him something I should not have to.

"Really? Because it's a little awkward talking into your girlfriend's vagina," he lowered his head to make his point.

"Shut up and stitch please," I replied.

"I missed you," she said stroking the back of my hand.

"Have you given her drugs?" I had to ask.

"Can't I miss my boyfriend," she turned and kissed my hand.

"Don't move," Aaron instructed, this time without raising his head. Isabella gasped. That was a little close.

"Shut up Aaron," I resisted the urge to kick him. I noticed his discarded shirt. It was wet and bloody but you could tell by the colour that it wasn't just blood, there was water there too.

"Done," he announced leaving the room.

"I'm going to find something to put over this," she jumped off the table and I saw just how exposed she was. Aaron had done some beautiful work with the stitches. There was just a thin line left.

"You might want to let that breathe," I pointed to the stitch even though she was facing away from me.

"Not in this house. I heard smelling blood when you're a vampire is like having a blowtorch in your throat," she picked up the shirt and took it out the back door. That one would never be seen again. I followed Aaron into the living room.

"Stand up," I stood in front of him and instructed.

"I've been standing in an awkward position for the half hour I spent applying pressure to the cut on your girlfriend's inner thigh, cleaning it, cleaning the table, stitching. She spent a good bit of that bitching, by the way," he had his elbows on his knees.

"How much of this did she do in the lacy, white, transparent thong?" I was curious.

"I knew your reaction to finding me between her legs was too good to be true," he shook his head.

"I'm not reacting to her barely clad state, her wide spread legs or your hand on her thigh or even that little thing where you grazed her when you talked," maybe I fibbed just a little at the end.

"What are you reacting to then Charles?" he asked in a tired voice.

"Your dick is hard for my wife, don't take that tone with me," I lowered my voice. I knew the risks of having this conversation with Isabella so close by.

"Like you said, 'transparent white thong, widespread legs, et cetera'. I'll even admit that it's more that little gasp on top of all those things. I'm a warm blooded man. It ends there," he drew a line through the air with his hand.

"Does it?" I wanted to be sure.

"She may not have the soul of a twenty year old but she does have the legs of one and the ass to match," he tilted his head.

"I'm grateful you stitched her up but don't push it," I warned him.

"She's a spitfire," he jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen, "And if you don't get your jealousy under control she's going to burn you, like the last time."

"I was never a jealous man," I sat down next to him, "I don't want to be one now. I just don't know how not to want to strangle any man who touches her."

"You love her," he leaned back, "Jealousy comes with that. That feeling, that aching feeling of insecurity, of being unseen, it'll never go away. Every time she smiles at another guy or he makes her laugh you'll probably want to kill him."

"What's your advice?" he'd hit the nail on the head.

"Do what you did just now. Keep your head. It'll never get easier," was all the advice he had for me.

"You're only good at giving unsolicited advice," I ran my hands through my hair.

"I have to go now," he got up, "Isabella's about to walk by here wearing half a shoelace masquerading as underwear."

"Next time you're stitching her, cut off a piece of the shorts. The thongs are for my eyes only," I walked him to the door.

"The only thing a thong will do for you is to invite blue balls. You're not getting laid with that stitch in the position it's in," he smiled.

"Go away," I opened the door. "My wife missed me." he let that slide.

"For all the five minutes you've been apart," he pulled the door shut himself. I found Isabella on her side on the couch. I lay down next to her and held her in my arms in sweet silence. Her leg curled around mine and her face fit into the crook of my arm.

"You know that letter I got this morning?" she laughed.

"Tell me," I was curios.

"The boys have a disciplinary hearing," she said into my chest.

"Is it something bad?" I pulled her closer to me.

"No," she laughed again, "It's pretty funny actually." I didn't hear what the funny story about the disciplinary hearing was. The cops showed up.


	22. Chapter 22

**AN: This chapter is a lot fluffier than you might expect, with the police at the door and all, but this is the last good, stable family day so I thought I'd make it just that, a family day. If you read it and don't get that warm fuzzy feeling about certain bits of it please remember how annoying family can be.**

**CPV**

"Officer," I opened the door, "What can I do for you this morning?" I was calm. Panic was what got people killed in many dangerous situations.

"Good morning sir," one of them said, "We're looking for Miss Isabella King."

"My ex wife?" I went for deception rather than lying outright.

"It is her listed address sir," the other informed me. Well, on any other day I would consider that an interesting thing with positive connotations. Today, not so much.

"What is this about?" maybe the direct approach would work better.

"We need to ask her a few questions," they remained evasive.

"Honey," she called deliberately loudly. I turned my head to see her come down the stairs in one of my shirts.

"Do you mind if we come in?" they asked.

"You're asking the wrong question," I opened the door. They ignored the attitude and came in.

"I'm Detective Anderson. This is Detective Manson. We'd like to ask you a few questions when you've um changed," Anderson looked down.

"I have a ridiculously big closet and I'm not the most decisive of people. Do you have a free hour?" she made no move to go anywhere.

"What happened the last time you saw Andrew Campbell?" Manson. I sensed a hostility here that went beyond the intimidating routine of policemen.

" I don't know an Andrew Campbell," she lifted her shoulders.

"You were the last person he was seen with," Anderson spoke up but was still looking down.

"When?" she looked like she was trying to recall him.

"Five nights ago," Anderson opened a book, "At-"

"Oh, him," she laughed with her lip between her teeth and put her hand on her forehead.

"So you do know an Andrew Campbell," Manson concluded.

"I know I picked up a guy at a bar five nights ago," she shrugged.

"You let a man into your home without knowing his name?" Anderson sounded sceptical. It did sound like a cover up. Unfortunately I knew all too well how true it was.

"When I pick up a guy in a bar I don't ask him for his name. I assume he will lie to me because if the whole damn world didn't know me I would lie too," she reasoned.

"I suppose you don't ask for their numbers either," Manson said with inexplicable disgust. It was clearly meant to be insulting. I knew better than to participate in this conversation so I kept my mouth shut. I learned a little trick from Aaron about getting to the truth: be silent and observe.

"I don't ask for numbers and I don't give mine. You program yours in and I will not call. Rules of engagement," she answered casually.

"You pick up guys often enough to have rules," Manson carried on. I was about to speak up when she raised her hand and gave me a smile that told me to stay out of whatever this is.

"It would be so much fun to pretend not to understand that you're trying to insult me but I want to spend the morning and the rest of this fine day with the father of my children so let's rather pretend you're not the cop with the bruised ego and I'm not the skinny girl who kicked your ass. I feel this would go so much faster that way," she put her hand on her hip. My first instinct was to laugh. Then I thought of all the implications.

"You killed him," Manson accused.

"That conclusion just from the fact that I took him home one night?" she looked at him like he was insane. He was. His conclusion was spot on but no logical person would jump straight to it.

"The last night he was ever seen, he was with you. It's physically possible because, like you said, you kicked the ass of a seasoned cop. The fact that you did that over a cab, tells me you're a loon," his eyes narrowed.

"You're so going to eat those words when he gets back from Vegas or wherever the hell he is," she looked offended but calm. That's one I haven't seen a lot of people pull off.

"He's never missed a day of work and he would not do so without an explanation now. He's a responsible adult," no one missed the insinuation there either. Anderson and I were spectators here.

"Yet he went home with me and didn't think to turn around when I broke in and gave him a feeble excuse about forgetting my keys. It was true but no responsible adult would have bought it," she goaded him. The best lies were always close to the truth but I hadn't heard much lie so far.

"What happened when you got to the apartment?," Anderson tried to play good cop.

"Drive by," she said like it was something we should have all understood. I was pretty sure she didn't mean it literally. She was too fast for that and apparently too fast for us to understand without translation.

"Someone drove by and shot you and my partner at random and no one, including yourself, reported it?" Manson made his stand clear.

"I don't speak cop," she put one hand on her chest, "And you obviously don't speak early twenties," she pointed at Manson, "It's what you call it when you take a guy home, have sex with him then kick him out immediately after."

Anderson looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "Don't worry about me," I joked, "I'm the one she married." He smiled for the two seconds it took Manson to stare him down.

"Can you account for your whereabouts on the night he disappeared?" Manson tried another approach.

Isabella took a pen out of my jacket pocket and wrote Maria's number on the back of his hand. "I'm not hitting on you," she said when he tried to pull it back, "That's where I was."

"We'll check this out," he put his hand up.

"You do that," she came to stand in front of me, "Now if you're done harassing me," I took that as my cue to open the door.

"I'm not quite done," Manson said when his Anderson made for the door.

"Until you have anything bearing the remotest resemblance to probable cause, no, wait, let's start with evidence of an actual crime, you are so done," she pointed to the door with an open hand. If you put her on mute, you'd swear she was bidding him farewell in a friendly manner. The difference between what she said and felt and what she portrayed scared the hell out of me sometimes. "Let me try this in cop: get the fuck out."

"We'll be in touch," a surly cop passed the threshold. I closed the door behind them.

"You really want to antagonise him?" I asked as I watched him walk down away through the window.

"He's not going to find anything," she pulled me back towards the couch, "He's serious about this so I'm sure he's already asked Maria's neighbors and if they gave him anything he would have brought a warrant. If he were really smart he'd hold me for assault and hunt down Maria."

"What makes you so sure he hasn't?" I pulled her back.

"She's on an island I can't pronounce, soaking up the sun," she pulled me towards the couch, "You're a horrible boyfriend for not noticing that."

"She has a passport?" I was a horrible boyfriend for letting this slip by me. "That she uses?"

"She's got new papers. I know a guy, remember?" she winked.

"You think of everything," I was amazed.

"You pretend that doesn't creep you out," she sat down.

"It does a little bit," I had to admit.

"I'm sorry. It's uh... it's a skill I find useful and, unfortunately, necessary," she put her hand around mine. I sat down next to her and kissed the top of her head.

"I get it," I pulled her into my arms, "I was there. I'm here. I understand the necessity of being one step ahead. What baffles me is why you pick fights with people twice your size."

"I don't _pick_ fights," she emphasised the word to make it true.

"You beat a guy up over a cab," I reminded her of what I'd heard one minute ago.

"He's an ass, in case it slipped your notice," she let her head fall backwards and looked up at me.

"How about the guy who sliced your arm open? And the one you beat up after that. You have to level with me here. Our marriage didn't work out because we weren't honest with each other. I need you to meet me half way," I turned towards her.

"What makes you think there were two guys?" she faced me.

"There was a drop of blood on your gown in one of the pictures. It was very small. I didn't see it till I stopped panicking, which means when you came home. See, your knuckles were fine then," I ran my thumb over them. They hadn't heeled yet.

"One guy," she sounded impressed for some reason, "Beat him up two different times. Before I was a hostage and after I was a hostage. He's the security guard who still hasn't pitched for work. And I wasn't really a hostage."

"Whoa, whoa," I put my hands on her shoulders. "You weren't really a hostage..."

"Don't yell but technically, no," she started a story I'm sure even Aaron couldn't have put together. "And don't expect the security guard to come to work ever again."

"Why?" I asked about the part that really confused me.

"That thing you said about staying one step ahead. Let's leave it at that for now," she looked at me pleadingly.

"Fine but I need you not to lie to me," I tucked her hair behind her ear, "The cut on your thigh?"

"Being faster means you don't fall as much but being clumsy is incurable and I'm reminded of that at the very worst of times," she moved to straddle me. "Aaron laughed like a hyena until he realised I was bleeding. Then he played the good doctor." she pushed me back till she could look into my eyes, "Since we're doing the levelling thing here. When are you going to let go of whatever it is that makes you feel... whatever it is you feel about me and Aaron?"

"I don't think there's anything between you two," it was true.

"Right, that's why your hand was clenched the entire time he stitched me up," she folded her arms.

"Do you know why you don't get along with Aaron?" I put my hands on her elbows, "You two are the same person. You're both just too stubborn to see that and... maybe one day you won't be so blind." then she slapped me. Hard. "He's much better at conflict resolution."

"It's you, okay," she kissed my burning cheek, "It's you. It's always you." she kissed me then pulled away just as I was getting into it. "Don't be stupid."

"I try not to be but," I sighed and held both her hands, "I've never been in love, not before you. The other side of the coin... no one's ever loved me."

"Someone's loved him?" she joked with glistening eyes. "Let me hear it."

"What?" I was left behind again.

"Whatever craziness you think about me and the stubborn ass who practically lives in this house, get it out," she pulled her hands out of mine.

"I've already said it," I stroked her arm.

"Oh? What would you do if I slept with him?" she knew where to push. "Be honest. It'll make you feel better."

"I would kill him," I answered honestly, "And then I would kill you." I looked up at her.

"Feel better?" she smiled like I hadn't just threatened to kill her and my best friend.

"Surprisingly so," I had to admit. "Don't sit like that. You're pulling at your stitches." I said when I saw the pinched look on her face. I helped her to her feet but she came back to sit in my lap. This time with her legs closed. She put her head on my shoulder.

"So the boys painted a mall cop pink," she informed me while drawing circles with her fingers on my chest.

"I can see the humour in that," I laughed.

"That's not all. Their cutest act of delinquency was, how do I say this?" she laughed, "Thirty five forth graders are convinced, as they wrote in their essays, that one Charles Eli Bass signed the Declaration of Independence."

"That really is cute," I agreed. She fell onto her back and laughed. Her legs came up, her hands went into her hair and she shook with laughter. Isabella was beautiful when she got out of bed and sulked all the way to the shower in the morning but in these moments, when she laughed like she hadn't a care in the world, when our family brought her such joy, she stopped my heart.

"What is it?" she gave a look that I swear was accusing.

"Nothing, I'm just watching you," I leaned over her.

"I know that look," she closed her eyes, "You get that look when someone's about to be mad at you. I could never be mad at you." she stroked the side of my face. Lies. "But by all means tell me why you think I should be."

"Well we have the hearing on Thursday morning and the function on Wednesday night-" I had just spotted the date on the piece of paper inviting us to the headmaster's office, along with a few other people.

"I'm either going to put up with the snob brigade stone cold sober or go to our children's disciplinary hearing hungover," she weighed her options, "I'm going to have a headache forty five minutes into that shindig." she warned.

"Works for me," I kissed her forehead. I was just happy she'd agreed to come with me. I thought she'd yell and disappear for two or three days. We were making progress. I didn't notice when she'd undone her button's, I'd been too fascinated by her face. She took my hand and put it to her breast. "No," I pulled it away before she could make me lose control. "I don't want to risk tearing your leg open."

Her only response was a smile. I was in trouble here. She ran her hand slowly down her thigh, digging her fingers into her flesh. Then she started stroking me. "Izzy stop," I only half meant it.

"Fine," she moved her hand away. I did not for one second believe she was complying. I was right not to. She pulled the shirt she was wearing up to her stomach. The hand that had been in her hair came down and moved her panties to the side. I knew it was too easy. She put the index and ring finger of her other hand into her mouth and sucked on them. After this they carelessly trailed down to her delicate folds. I had to stop watching this so I turned to kiss her.

I put my fingers in her mouth. I felt her warm breath on the back of my hand as she swirled her tongue around my fingers. I ached for her. Her arms moved, her back arched, she gasped, then she moaned. My hand was big enough to touch both her nipples at the same time. I dragged it down her stomach, back up past her nipples and up to her face. She let out a small cry. I covered her mouth with mine and let my tongue slip in. She returned the kiss and took my lip between her teeth. I cannot name the sound that came out of my mouth she when did that.

Her hips started moving against her hands. My hands roamed hungrily over her body, eager to take part. I could only move one of them. The other was supporting her head, tangled in her hair. I stopped my ravenous when it reached her thigh. I clenched it into a fist. This was torture. Her moans became louder, shorter. The breaths she took between them became shallower.

"Charles," she grabbed my hand and replaced hers with it. My breath caught when I touched her. I didn't breathe again till she moved it. Then I came back to myself and slid two fingers into her wet heat. I planted my hand firmly on her leg when she started to move it. "Charles," that sounded a little angry. I went back to my ministrations while she unbuttoned my pants with amazing speed and skill.

"Yes," the anger evaporated. "Oh yes." She pulled my member and lifted her ass. I knew this was probably a bad idea but I lay on my side and entered her from behind. We stopped moving for a second. I needed to calm down before I did something I'd really regret. "Come on," she wined when I moved in and out of her slowly.

"Izzy," my fingers dug into her flesh, "Don't push me please." my body was on fire with need.

"Harder please," she pinched her breast. I put my hand under her arm and grabbed her shoulder. I pulled her down as thrust I into her. "Yes," she approved.

"Fuck," I said into her shoulder. I pulled her into me. Her head fell back and she gasped. I bit her shoulder.

"Baby," she arched her back. I could tell she was close.

"Jesus!" Aaron killed it in one second. We all froze for a second while shock ran it's course.

"Boundaries!" Isabella slapped her forehead.

"On the couch visible from the front door?" he removed his coat and hung it up. He was not seriously standing here .

"In my house," she countered by climbing on top of me. She closed her eyes and bit her lips. She was in pain. , b)

"Okay, ceasefire," I pulled her to her feet and wrapped her in my shirt, "The fighting will commence after cuts have healed." I zipped my pants and examined her. It was much the same as three hours ago. "Upstairs," I slapped her ass, "Antibiotics."

"I'm going, I'm going," she walked towards the stairs.

"Clothes would help," I called after her. "Why aren't you at work?" I turned to Aaron.

"They send you home when you hit the thirty hour mark. Apparently you may as well come to work drunk," he shrugged. "Stop looking at me like that. You have plenty of time for sex."

"Between you, work and the kids? Where do you think we find the time?" I honestly wanted to know. He shrugged. "Clearly you've forgotten everything you ever learned about sex. When last did you get laid?"

"I'll be back this afternoon when the boys are back from school," he didn't even take his coat.

"That was mean," Isabella laughed from the top of the stairs. "Nicely done." She was wearing loose tracksuit pants and a skin-tight white vest. I closed my eyes when she slid down the railing. She was really pushing that stitch. "Can we make out?" she stood in front of me.

"Yes," I pulled her down and sat her next to me, "Northern hemisphere only. Yes, that means you stay out of my lap and your feet stay on the floor. Agreed?"

"Fine but you have to feel me up," she put my hand on her breast.

"I never did this in high school," I got closer.

"Hard to believe but I never did it either," she giggled. Yes, giggled.

"I'll save the enquiries for later," I held her face between my hands and kissed her. We made out like teenagers for three hours. I got to second base before the knocking started. "Expecting someone?"

"At this hour it can only be the kids," she tucked her bra back under her vest.

"Ten points for mom," Eli walked into the room. "Minus thirty for dad. He makes me not want to read minds."

"Fifty points for mom," Anthony kissed her cheek, "I'm glad we didn't see whatever filth you were just thinking." He earned himself a cushion to the head. Brutal.

"Hi kids," I finished buttoning my shirt.

"Eli," his mother pointed to her cheek. He kissed her and then produced a football from his bag.

"Let's play ball," Anthony smiled. We all got out to the yard. Aaron was called and appointed referee and all other officials. I teamed up with Anthony and Isabella with Eli. We had them on strength but they were creaming us on speed and manipulation. The field authority was harsh.

"When I said call it both ways," Isabella explained to Aaron, "I didn't mean cheat us all." After this statement the authority was changed. Isabella was worse than Aaron. Bad calls were swapped for laughter and ridicule until the authority was replaced again. I was dismissed from the post on account of, in my defence, blowing the whistle whenever someone wanted to tackle the smallest and only injured player in the game. Apparently I ruined it for all because that's when the player vacated the field.

"That was fun," Anthony said with obvious surprise.

"I'm glad," his mom stroked his cheek, "You'll have something to do while you're grounded for the next two month."

"Two months?" they looked at their mother.

"You painted an officer of the law pink," she said slowly.

"He's a mall cop mom," Eli rolled his eyes.

"Did hear the cop part or was that just me?" she initiated me into this discussion I was happy to watch from the sidelines.

"Heard it," I answered and went back to my passive role.

"You gave one a black eye," Anthony pointed out.

"Three months and chores," the punishment went up, "The staff will be so pleased with unpaid leave. Anyone else want to mouth off? Going, going, go to your rooms."

"You gave a cop a black eye?" Aaron asked when the boys were inside the house.

"And you can go home," she turned to face him full on. She now had her back to me. I took a handkerchief out of my pocket and waved it above her head to remind him he had to forfeit this fight.

"Fine," he walked away.

"You're pretty good at this parenting thing," I wrapped my arms around her from behind.

"Thank you," she relaxed into my arms, "Now I'm going to act like a child and ask you to carry me to bed." she fell into my arms. I scooped her up and took her to bed. She passed out as soon she hit the pillow. I hadn't exerted myself quite as much so I watched her sleeping. Isabella always slept fitfully. The calm other people supposedly exuded when they were asleep was something I never saw on her face. I never sat up this long just watching her sleep but today there was something there. There was still turmoil but the haunted look was absent.

"Charles," she turned towards me. I almost thought she was awake. I kissed her gently. She said my name again. I thought her saying my name would keep me up the whole night. I was so wrong. She lifted her hand like she was reaching for me. I took it and put it on my cheek. Her hand tightened, dug into my flesh painfully. I got distracted before I could pull it off my face because even though she dug deeper into my eye socket she made me the happiest man on earth. "Love you too," she smiled.

I wrapped my hand around hers and kissed her palm. My heart pounded so hard I felt physical pain. I almost couldn't breath. There was no way I was going to sleep now.

"You stubborn, stubborn woman," I shook my head, "You had to say it in your sleep." I kissed her. I gave up on going to sleep and I woke her. I'm not going to win the boyfriend of the year award.

"Hey," she said with her eyes still shut.

"I was thinking-"

"Shhh," she put her hand on my mouth, "Don't talk. Make love to me," she pulled me on top of her.

"You don't have to ask me twice," I pulled her panties down. She wasn't about to wait for that. One of her legs was out of them before they were past her knees. She hooked her thumb into my briefs and pulled them down. Her hand assisted and before I knew it I was poised at her entrance.

"Isn't this going a little fast?" I stopped myself. "Are you ready?"

"So ready," she pulled me down for a kiss. I thrust into her with all the pent up hunger of the day. She gave as good as she got. Overall, that made for some very short sex. "Get off me," she said in a sleepy voice. I pulled out of her but not after a long, deep kiss.

"I love you," I said when I'd gotten off her as instructed. She didn't respond. She was already fast asleep. No matter, it was already a perfect day.


	23. Chapter 23

**CPV**

"It doesn't make sense," Aaron said as we adjusted our ties in the men's room. "Why would she get rid of the only person who can verify her alibi?"

"She doesn't need one," I pointed out.

"Still," he had a look of intense concentration on his face.

"Let it go," I studied myself in the mirror, "If there's something there she'll tell me when she's ready."

"Of course she will," he started our way back to the party. It was small, as these things go. Just a formality. Introducing the man who'd run my business to the more important of the people I did business with. My company owns fifty companies that deal in everything from copper to cruise ships. The more important people on that spider web were on the up side of five hundred.

Isabella was predictably, though not perceptively, annoyed. I had left her dancing with the new man in charge. When I came back the left side of his face face was bleeding. Isabella was bleeding from her right hand and the nose. A man working security was standing between them. Neither was trying to get past him but something was very wrong with this picture.

**A little earlier**

**BPV**

"Isabella," he caressed my back gently. "You're the last person I expected to see here."

"I'm the person you're here for," I told the both of us, "If you're going to play games you should at least live up to the previous standard."

"I knew that glowing smile was an act," he sounded happy.

"What do you want?" I asked. "You're not here to kill me. This sure as hell is not about revenge. The only way you can take me back to that place is in a body bag."

"We'll see," he didn't let me finish. Then I just had to laugh.

"I know you to be a lot of things," I shared my thoughts, "Pathetic has never been one of them." I felt his hand tighten and go up my back. "Slide that hand back down Cain," I instructed, "You're not going to drag me by the hair in front of God and everyone."

"Last I heard you were pretty Godless," he made me wonder how long he'd been in town.

"You gave me enough God to last a few life times and not the good parts of him either so don't pretend to be surprised," this was substantially easier than I'd thought it would be. Talking to him, letting him touch me. I thought it would be hard. But the last time I thought of this moment I was a captive, though not a literal one. Now I was free. Being in the arms of the man who'd once captured me had lost it's symbolism.

"What secret are you keeping, Isabella?" his tone was threatening. Either he had an ace up his sleeve or he just thought he still had this much power over me. "You're awfully smug about something."

"You really don't recognise happy, do you?" I could see he was blowing smoke. "I'd imagine not. You must not see much of it."

"You have forgotten me," he stated.

"No, I've just changed," I kept swaying to the music.

"No you haven't," he was confident, "Nor will you ever. Something has caused you to think yourself invincible. I shall smite thy sinful pride."

"Go ahead and mother fucking try it," I gripped the hair at the base of his skull. I could hear him fume in my ear. His hands twitched on my back.

"I see you didn't bring the replacement kids," he tried a different approach.

"They're grounded. You know how teenagers are. Oh wait..." I goaded.

"I know exactly how teenagers are," he licked my ear. I pulled harder on his hair. "I knew you were in there somewhere." He enjoyed my reaction.

"Sometimes, sure," I admitted, "But they are few and far between. They are disappearing. Whatever you thought you'd achieve when you came here, I hope you have contingency plans."

Charles walked across the room, towards the bathrooms and waved. I smiled and waved back. "Well, well," he leaned back and laughed. "That's where all this is coming from? Vanity, Isabella, all is vanity."

"That's one man's opinion," the smile stayed on my face.

"There are six things the Lord hates," he started.

"Seven are an abomination. A lying tongue is number two," I wasn't about to let him dictate to me. "I'm not lying. Look at me," I pulled back. I waited till I saw that look I so well recognise. The one he gets when he studies someone or sniffs out a bluff. "I love him." He stared at me, tilted his head slowly then shook it. "I'm not dead, not yet," I put my arms around him again, "And you can't destroy me. I think we've established that."

"It means nothing," he decided, "He doesn't even know you."

"He knows," I was glad to say.

"If he knew everything he wouldn't have hired me," the confidence was back.

"You think I'd tell him what you look like? See, he loves me," I explained, "He can't know what you've done _and_ know what you look like. But I can't expect you to understand love. You're incapable of it and, let's face it Cain, no one could ever love you."

"Enough," he caught a few strands of my hair in a clenched fist. That burned.

"How does it feel to lose?" I enjoyed his helplessness.

"I wouldn't know," this had the beginnings of a threat, "But he will. And you will watch when it all burns, everything he owns, everything he is. It will be biblical."

"There's one thing you can't take away from him," I masked my fear, "Me. Even if he's dirt poor, he'll still be a good man, and he'll still be a perfect fit," I put my lips to his ear, "Right between my legs."

"Whore," he slapped me. Trapping Cain was never easy. Having one side of my face feel like it was on fire seemed a small thing. This was enough to get him out of his position at the head of Charles' company but it wasn't enough for me. I struck him with the back of my left hand. The look of shock on his face was priceless. He didn't expect a fight. He was still living in the time when I bent to his will. My ring was back on my finger. It cut his cheek open but I didn't see this till I'd split my knuckle to the bone on his eye socket.

I knew I couldn't win this fight. That wasn't the point. I just had to get him to engage. So when his forehead connected with the small gap between my eyes, blinding me, I was not worried. When my vision had cleared a man I'm pretty sure was security was standing between us. He handed me a handkerchief. I only realised when I reached out to take it that my nose was bleeding.

"What the hell happened here?" Charles rushed to me.

"Misunderstanding," Cain said from the other side of now two guards with his hand on his cheek.

"He grabbed my ass," I made an excuse before another explanation was put on the table.

"I did not and even if I did this would still be an overreaction," he revealed his cheekbone.

"Shit," Aaron exclaimed in shock.

"Leave now and do not return," was all Charles had to say. "Now!"

Cain nodded. Then he put his hand on his shoulder like it was hurt. He feigned pain on the other one then dragged his hand from one to the other right along his collar bone. I'd seen this done numerous different ways. Every one was as menacing as the last. There it was, the forecast. There's a storm coming.

"Shouldn't we call an ambulance, sir?" one of the man working security asked Charles.

"We should but she won't go to a hospital," he turned to me, "And she has her own doctor," he looked at Aaron. "Get off my island," he pointed to Cain, "I won't say it again." He turned back to his security, "None of this leaves this room. I don't care if you have to open an informational black hole big enough to wipe out the tax records of this entire state. Am I clear?"

"I'll call Vince," the man with the earphone nodded.

"Deal with the crowd," he touched another guy's shoulder.

"How's the nose?" he cupped my face and tilted it back. I removed the cloth. "The bleeding has stopped," he observed, "Come on Champ," he took my injured hand gently, "That hand's gonna need stitches," he suddenly looked tired. "Aaron."

"Let's see the hand Galveston Giant," Aaron sat down next to me in a room in the hotel while Charles paced. "You need to go to an ER. This needs to be sutured with the proper instruments."

"Fine," I stood up, "I'm going to drive to the ER. Go back to the party, mingle with the guests. Keys," I opened my palm.

Aaron looked at Charles, who nodded, then back at me, "One scratch," he warned, dropping keys in my pocket.

"I'll see you at home," I kissed Charles on the cheek and broke every speed limit on the way to the hospital, to the coffee shop and home.

**CPV**

"Something is wrong," Aaron looked on as Isabella walked away.

"Something is very wrong," I sat down. "But she has no intention of telling me."

"And we can't get it out of her. Go home. Wait. Maybe she'll tell you why she can't seem to keep her temper when you leave her alone for five minutes," he advised. So I went home, and I waited, till four in the morning. She didn't come to the room we shared. I heard the door click on the other side of the hall.

I walked into the room. She sat upright with her, leaning against headboard, hugging a bottle of scotch. Her knees were on her. "Isabella," I sat down next to her, "Tell me what's wrong."

"My hair is too short," she studied God knows what in the curtain. "It's grown but not enough." she traced something I couldn't see.

"You're high," I realised.

"Yep," she nodded too far and her chin hit her chest.

"What did you do?" I asked.

"Does it matter?" her turned to me.

"I need to know you didn't share any needles or do something really toxic," I shook her.

"Cocaine," she said in a high pitched voice.

"Izzy," I climbed into the bed next to her, "You need to tell me what's wrong."

"No," she put her finger on her nose and closed her eyes, "You need to stay far away from what's wrong. And it needs to stay far away from you."

"Don't worry about me. I can handle it," I held her hand.

"You are an arrogant man," she patted my knee a few times and let her hand rest there.

"I'm an arrogant man who needs you to be okay," I held her face between my hands. Something occurred to me then, "You said there were eight of them. Is he the eighth?"

"Nope," she popped the p, "The eighth is a girl. I can still see the blood spread over my forearm when I look at it. She said it looked so pretty running down my milky skin. I can't find her anywhere. None of the others would tell me. I thought she'd be a plastic surgeon. She knew how to make it so it didn't scar. I've searched this country from stem to stern and found nothing." I held her tighter, more for my benefit than hers. "You know what pisses me off? I can find a person from another continent and get them to this one but I can't find one stupid bitch in the home of the fucking brave," she pulled her hair.

"Stop," I pulled her hands out of her hair. "Stop pulling your hair out. Keep talking."

"But you're crying," she protested.

"It's what I do to deal with this. You punch people and I cry," without realising it, apparently. And it wasn't usually how I dealt with anything. "I'm the baby in this relationship," I joked as well as I was able. This would go no further. Information was passed in single paragraphs with my Izzy.

"Charles," she turned towards me. I know that look. She ran her hand down my chest. Fire rushed across my skin.

"You're gonna call me a name but I'm afraid to take you when you're so vulnerable," I said even as me hand made its way up her thigh.

"Don't worry boy scout," she pulled her zip down and peeled her dress off her top half. "I want you." her breathing started getting shallow. "Don't you want me?" she touched my hand.

"You know I do," I put her hand on my wood.

"I know you have blood vessels," she removed her hand, "I also know I always initiate." she turned my back on me. "And my high is wearing off."

"Good," I gripped either side of the zip and tore her dress down the back. I threw it on the floor. "Turn around. I want to see you."

"Don't you like it from behind?" she brushed against me. Another tone I was getting used to.

"What are you hiding?" fear was the theme of the night.

"You aren't going to touch me if I tell you and that's a little unfair. I knew you wouldn't touch me so I came to sleep by myself. You come along in a single square yard of fabric and rip off my dress," she talked faster as she went on.

"Stop," I tried to calm her down. "I'll do whatever you like. As long as it doesn't hurt you. I'll always want you."

She turned to lie on her back and lowered the front of her panties. She had what looked like a bandage. "I had the scar removed," she explained. "I'm taking antibiotics and doing all the other things I was told to do. Please, I just wanna be close to you."

"I'm about to get really close," I kissed her shoulder, "Really close." I pulled her underwear down slowly, "But no sudden movements," I left her panties around her ankles. "If they fall off I'll know you're moving more than you should be and I'll stop."

"Let's discuss that after you start," she pulled my briefs up over my manhood and down to my knees. "You make me so wet without even trying." she made me twitch.

"You're gonna make me lose control," I squeezed her breast a little more than I intended to.

"Lose control," her breathing got heavier.

"Give me your hands," I instructed, "Above your head." She complied. I held her wrists together in one hand. My other went to her hip. I pulled her ass towards me forcefully. I let my fingers trace the curve of her derriere. Right were it meets her leg, I wrapped my hand around it and gave it a squeeze. We both gasped. I couldn't contain my reaction to seeing her. My cock led me to her entrance. It twitched at the connection. She pushed herself onto me.

I wanted to tease her but I just didn't have that much willpower. She cried out as I entered in one swift motion. I bit my lip, hard, to keep silent. I wanted to listen to her. "Talk to me," I managed while I thrust into her again.

"What should I say?" Gasp. "I'll say anything."

"Say what you say," thrust, "In your sleep." thrust.

"Wha-" I cut her off with a deep, hard thrust.

"You know what," I went deeper. She cried out again, this time it sounded like one of pain. Maybe I'd pushed it too far, excuse the pun.

"Don't," she pushed back onto me when I tried to pull out. "I'll say it."

"Don't," I thrust back into her. This was blackmail. "Shhh," I said into her ear when she tried to talk again. I let go of her hands and turned her face to mine. "Kiss me," I said into her mouth. The friction was mind blowing as she turned to lie on her back. She lifted her legs and I put mine under them. I supported my body with my elbow so I could lean over her and kiss her. Being tall had its advantages.

Her kiss became rougher the closer she got to release. "Fuck," I came up for breath, she'd started moving in circles. "I'm close," I warned her.

"I'm," was all she got out before I felt her clench around me. I pulled myself up to look at her but my eyes rolled back into my head and I knew I was done for. The world went black and then brilliant. When I came back to earth the muscles in my arm was on fire. I collapsed onto my side. When I opened my eyes she was looking at me, smiling the sweet smile that came after an orgasm. "It still terrifies me." it became a little sad.

"I know," I brushed her face, "I was being unfair and I'm sorry."

"I understand," she kissed me.

"Now I need you to understand something," apprehension was clear on her body when she heard me say that. "This is a relationship," I pointed back and forth between us. "You can't get laser therapy without consulting me."

"Doesn't that also mean you have to consult me when hiring the man who'll run the company I have a billion dollar stake in?" she asked. "Sorry," she put her hand on my lips before I could respond, "I got off on the wrong foot with him. That's not your fault and I didn't want anything to do with running the company. I still don't. I just have a propensity to argue with everything."

"What happened?" I got to ask again.

"He just reminded me of something I would rather forget," was as far as I would get tonight.

"Well you never have to see him again. I'm not going to do anything stupid," I promised when she tried to cut in.

"Good," she started pulling the covers down, "Chivalry is dead and I can handle my own shit. If you ever try to fight my battles, Charles, you'll end up fighting me."

"I know you like to fight your own battles," I helped her pull down the cover. "I can respect that. I know a bit more about boundaries than Aaron does. However, you have to at least tell me about things like this," I ran my hand over the piece of material in an inch wide line just below her abdomen.

"I need you to be a little patient with me," it looked like this was difficult for her and I didn't want to make it more so, "I'm a little new to... accountability and... responsibility and... all the other things that come with having a relationship."

"I can understand that. I also need you not to do drugs," I pushed my luck. "Or drink and drive."

"It's bad enough that your name is Charles. Do you have to sound like the chief of police too?" she got under the covers and turned away from me. That hit it's mark.

"I almost lost my mind worrying about you tonight," I couldn't back down.

"When I'm too drunk to drive, I take a cab. I seldom do coke. I don't take other drugs. I don't share needles. It's five in the morning. I need some sleep," she ended the conversation. That went well. I got under the covers and put my arm around her slowly. She didn't resist but she didn't respond either.

"I love you," I said into the stony silence. She took my hand and kissed it.

"I hope you slept," she spoke.

"Trust me I know how hard this bed is," I held her closer.

"I feel something harder than this bed," she invited.

"I thought you were mad at me," I was taken aback. My hand wasn't. It had a way of reacting to words like that.

"Haven't you ever heard of angry sex?" she turned to me, "On your back." she pushed forcefully. It's gonna be a beautiful day.


	24. Chapter 24

It was another day at work, just another day at work: negotiating for Crawford, getting lunch for Crawford, making appointments for Crawford, negotiating with Crawford. Another day at work. I walked into his office and gave him an agreement to sign. "How do you manage to keep up with system?"

"Why do you trouble yourself thinking about that?" I asked to him.

"So I can give pointers to your replacement when you get bored and quit," he answered.

"You think anyone else would work with you?" I honestly wanted to know. Crawford was a good guy but he was a slave driver.

"Get out," he pointed at the door.

"Have a good day sir," I smiled and walked back to my desk. The smile disappeared when I got there, "What is it you want Cain?" I used the name and identity I knew instead of his latest work of fraud.

"I came to negotiate," he gave me his most convincing smile. I was convinced, not of anything good, but I was convinced.

"What do you have?" I was somewhat arrogant, having won the last bout.

"Footage," he smiled, "It's a little like a greatest hits collection."

"So what?" I had a feeling this would not go my way.

"So I could release it to your husband," he said what I expected.

"Fine," I bluffed, "Show it to him." Charles knew a lot but the worst I had kept from him.

"I thought you'd say that," he sat down. Oh this was bad. "After I show it to him, it'll be shown to the police."

"I'll get the chair," I was certain. "And you'll have to play all by yourself."

"I thought you'd say that too," he was too cheerful for my liking. "Let me save you a long day. I'll show him the tape. He'll stay with you, forgive you and keep your secret. That sounds sweet and magical to the romantics. Do you know what it sounds like to me?" I hated it when he spoke like that. The cheer was no longer bogus. "Accessory after the fact."

"Failure to report is different to accessory after the fact," I thought out loud.

"Unless he's going to mail the hard drive to the DA he'll be concealing evidence," he informed me.

"You'd go to jail too," I was grasping at straws.

"You know I'd never go to the police myself," he pointed out the obvious. I would imagine there was someone he could force to do that. Someone was going to get screwed and it wasn't just me. The sap forced to hand it over was going to have a lot of explaining to do. My children would suffer. And there were only several years they could visit me on death row before someone noticed something was not ordinary about them.

"I also have a greatest hits collection," I used his words, "You're very popular there."

"That would make us even on the overall scale," he leaned to the side, "Only I don't have anything to lose. If you report me I disappear into one of my many identities, an option you too have, as I removed any trace of Isabella Swan from any system. But you don't want to leave."

"Neither do you," it became clear to me.

"It's hard to leave good sport," he sounded like he was talking about leaving a concert , "But I'm a lot like you." I hated it when he said that but I didn't react, "I would cut off my nose to spite my face."

This was why I hated the bastard. There was never an up side. The options were always lose and lose. If I didn't leave Charles I would get the lethal injection and my children would never see me without chains or I'd have to leave. On the other hand, giving in to the demands of a terrorist was never a good idea. And I would be miserable. I was sorry I had opened my mouth about loving Charles.

"Then what?" I wanted to know. "I leave him, then what?"

"Then the real fun begins," he took my hand and kissed it, right on the stitches. "I've missed you," he got up and walked away.

"Who kicked your dog?" Crawford finished me out of the bottomless pit I was currently spiralling down.

"My stitches are giving me trouble. I think I might have pushed it a bit today," I put my hand in my lap.

"Go home," he rubbed my shoulder, "See I can be nice."

"Thank you," I had no energy for sarcasm. I needed to find an actual place to stay, have an address. First things first, I went to the bathroom and had a good cry for ten minutes. Then my eyes started swelling and I knew it was time to stop. I stood in the mirror and touched up my make-up, preparing to break the heart of a good man, the best man I know.

**CPV**

My shift back to the world of medicine was delayed but this was absolutely the last day I would spend in my own office. I was sick of it. Knowing there was an office with my name on the door twenty feet from Isabella was making me hate it here. I was happy that the day was finally over, that I could go home to my family. If I'd only known.

"I missed you too," I walked up to her. She was outside, waiting. She turned her face to the side when I tried to kiss her. Then I noticed her ring was back on the chain around her neck.

"I'm leaving," she said in a quiet voice, "I'm going to stay at a loft about two miles away from where Maria lives."

"What's the problem with living here?" I asked.

"I'm breaking up with you. Being in the same house doesn't go well with that," she leaned against a pillar.

"Let's go back to the breaking up with me part," I was shocked and confused. "We were- we are doing just fine, better than fine."

"That's the problem," she explained, "You're intense, too intense."

"You're still spooked I said I loved you," I couldn't believe it, "Fine. I'll never say it again."

"I'm turning twenty one," she reminded me unnecessarily, "And let's face it I have the emotional maturity of a teething infant. I can't deal with intense of any degree, let alone this one."

"You're leaving me, again, because I love you too much?" this was insane.

"Yes," she sounded so sure, "I need a man I can go out for drinks with to a place where the music is so loud we have to text, someone who expects me to kick him out in the morning, someone who's only interested in giving me a ring on the phone, someone my own speed... someone my own age.

"You're going there?" I couldn't help but raise my voice.

"Goodbye Charles," she started walking down the stairs.

"You're not leaving," I grabbed her arm, "Not like this."

"Mom, don't go," the twins appeared at the door.

"You guys know I love you, right?" she walked to them. They were understandably sceptical about answering that one. "I'm suffocating. You are the most perfect children in the world, Charles is the perfect father and husband and boyfriend but I am suffocating here. I'm not disappearing on you. I just need a little air, a little room to breathe. Can you forgive me?"

"Can you stay?" Anthony asked. When the answer didn't come he disappeared into the house.

"I'll go," Eli disappeared.

"I'm not letting you walk away from me again," I created a cage around her with my arms.

"You're making this too hard," she pulled my car keys out of my pockets, "Come."

"Okay," I let myself be led. It was the most hope I'd had since I came home. She floored the gas. I was afraid to even talk to her.

"What's wrong?" I asked when she finally stopped the car.

"I bring danger into your life," she answered, "I have enemies, lots of enemies and most of them invisible. I can't stay with you."

"They don't scare me," I wasn't letting her go.

"That doesn't mean they can't hurt you," she put her feet up on the seat.

"We can face anything together," I held her hand.

"Don't make me leave town," she pulled her hand out of mine, "Because if you don't agree to stay away from me, to live your life like our relationship is over, I will leave and you won't be able to find me."

"Isn't there any other way?" I asked.

"Yes. I could stay with you and you could die," she said in a cold voice, "After you're dead the torch passes to the kids. How do you think that will work out?"

"We can disappear," I was losing my logic.

"You can't run from someone if you don't know who they are," she raised her voice, "And you can't hide if everyone knows you."

"It isn't fair," I whined.

"It isn't," tears rolled down her cheeks, "And you have to move on or they'll know I told you."

"I'm confused," I admitted, "You're supposed to dump me? Sounds like a jealous ex."

"Isolation, Charles. It makes people insane," she laughed like it was working already.

"This isn't forever, right?" I wouldn't be able to live with that.

"No," she said with all the solemnity of a promise, "Now get out of the car."

"What?"

"I'm dumping you," she informed.

"On the side of the road," I pointed out of the window.

"I'm also taking your cellphone, wallet and shoes. And I'm keeping the car," she patted the steering wheel.

"You don't like the viper," I reminded her.

"That's not the point," she reached into my pocket and took my phone and wallet. It wasn't the point. I took off my shoes and handed them over. "See you on page six," she opened the door.

"I'll miss you," I cupped her cheek.

"I'll miss you too," she kissed the palm of my hand. I got out and she drove away. It was the longest walk home I had ever taken, in both senses of the word. It sunk in that she would not be home when I got there and I didn't know when she'd be home again.


	25. Chapter 25

**CPV**

"This is a horrible idea," Aaron said for the eighteenth time.

"I know," I wasn't going to get sucked into this again.

"She quit her job to avoid you," he didn't stop anyway.

"There are plenty of reasons she quit her job," I mumbled. I couldn't deny that I was the primary one.

"Why does she live in this shit hole?" Aaron thought out loud. It was a loft and the most obvious redeeming features were the sight lines. You could see people coming from every direction. The neighbourhood was unsavoury enough to keep girl scouts and Jehovah's witnesses away. The viper was parked outside.

"How the hell is the car still here?" it had been about a month, parked outside and still there.

"Your wife is a dangerous woman Charles," Aaron was not surprised. "I just hope my car is under the same protection when it's parked here."

"She'll probably let it get vandalised just to prove a point," she was not above such behaviour. "Do we knock?" I asked when got to the door. She'd obviously seen us coming.

"I think that would be a proper first step," Aaron nodded. The door opened when I lifted my fist. Isabella was standing there dressed all in black. Skinny pants, a tight t-shirt and stilettos with metal heels. Her hair was sleeked back and twisted then held up with two Chinese sticks placed diagonally in opposite directions. Her make up was minimal. The light gave her skin a faint glow. Looking at her broke my heart.

"Go home," she sighed. She said it in a defeated tone. At least she knew she wasn't getting rid of me. She grudgingly opened the door.

"Maria?" Aaron was the first to realise. It took me a second to get around the blond hair. She was dressed similarly to Isabella. Tight black jeans, navy t-shirt, bold red heels but the hair was down. It looked like they were going out.

"You'll get used to it," she twirled her hair.

"It's strangely homey in here," he looked around, "And I was referring to your being back in town."

"She's a nester," Isabella replied to the first statement, "And this place needed a... domestic touch."

"You brought her back to decorate your... new apartment despite the fact that the police want to talk to her about a man resting under a head stone that isn't his?" it didn't make much sense to Aaron. I didn't buy it either but I knew better than to think I'd get the truth.

"There are six girls buried under his basement. Stop losing sleep over him," she closed the door behind us.

"Wait," Aaron didn't know which question to start with.

"I know a guy," that translates to I'm not giving you anything, "Don't ask. I can't tell. He's a creep and someone will find them. Eventually."

"Anonymous tip," Aaron hated injustice, even to the dead.

"It's not anonymous if only a handful of people know. Leave it alone before you end up buried under someone's basement," she seemed edgy.

"It's time," Maria stood up.

"Damn you," she hit the door with an open palm. I had a feeling she was talking to me.

"What now?" Maria asked.

"What before?" I wanted to know. We'd just walked into something.

"Shut up," Isabella had her forehead to the door. "Son of a bitch." she hit the door again.

"What's wrong?" Maria was the only one brave enough to speak.

"They knew," she started pacing, "When the invitation arrived they were on their way here," she pointed to us, "And there was no way we could get rid of them before we had to leave. Your presence here was intentional," she looked at me with her hand above her head.

"So someone invited you to... something," Aaron tried to piece it together, "When they found out we were coming here. This would also be someone who knew you wouldn't want us to go to this event. The fact that they cut it so close means they want us there. Why?"

"This is trap. It's a very obvious trap. If you weren't here I'd have walked into it with fairly accurate expectations because I know these players and I know this game. Your presence changes everything and this is not a crowd I like to play guessing games with," she scraped her finger nails across her scalp.

"Let's go home," Aaron looked at me pleadingly.

"Bad idea," Izzy just shook her head.

"No one can just know when you leave your house that you're coming here," Maria took it upon herself to explain, "You were either being followed or someone was told to watch out for you."

"Staying here is also a bad idea," Isabella put her hands on her hips.

"Why?" there was more to this than simple logic.

"Because another popular multi-player way of trapping someone is to have someone on location who reports to someone else that you didn't pitch up. It gets more complicated from there but staying home is a bad idea," she put her hand down the front of her shirt and touched her and clutched her ring.

"Then why are you going?" I asked.

"There is a downside to staying," Maria sang.

"So you just have to figure out which choice is the right one," Aaron concluded.

"There is no right choice," she went to dig around in a cardboard box, "Someone will come here. Someone will be expecting me there. Use it as a last resort," she handed me a gun fitted with a silencer, "You two are staying here," she handed another weapon to Maria, who took it faster than I and tucked it into her belt.

"You're taking him?" it didn't quite make sense.

"Taking you would be even more obvious," she opened the door.

"Iz-"

"No," she shook her head and put her hand up. I watched them disappear.

"Sit down," Maria put her hand on my shoulder. "Waiting's the worst part."

"What's your part in this?" I needed a distraction to keep from going crazy.

"'I have Charles and our kids and more skeletons than you can count. What's your excuse for not doing whatever it is that people our age do?' That's what she asked me. I told her I had responsibilities and she told me to stop playing games with the only person in my corner," she started her explanation.

"So she knew whatever it is that you're running from," I realised.

"Turns out we have some friends in common," she hung her feet on the arm of the chair she was sitting on and put the gun in her lap casually.

"What's your connection to these friends?" I sat down and put the gun in my lap too.

"Someone signed a piece of paper and twenty six people died. It fell into my lap. If Isabella told you anything about our mutual friends you know law enforcement can't help me," she was scaring me all over again, "Two can keep a secret when one of them is dead. I was a dancer who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I had nothing to lose if the secret wasn't kept."

"But if Izzy could find this secret," the puzzle wasn't making sense yet, "Someone like me-"

"No," she stopped me, "She didn't find it," she stopped there.

"You've already started," I couldn't let her flash a piece of the puzzle then hide it.

"She's told you about him, right?" she said after looking down for a minute.

"Yes," I didn't need to hear the name to know she was talking about Cain.

"He keeps her in the loop but it's always like tonight. There's never an upside," she shook her head. "He told her I needed help. That the people I was running from were catching on to me. Then he told her if she took me in he'd kill me himself. I think she's lying about that part, about killing me."

"I think she won't let him touch you," I couldn't disagree with her last statement. From what I'd hear about Cain, he was a sadistic mother fucker.

"When you pitch up like you just did," she pointed at the door, "You introduce anarchy into an already volatile situation. You're not helping anyone. You're just making her crazy and she's already quit her job, got a DUI, court ordered anger management, used half a cookie jar of condoms, only God knows how much coke and she's well into her second case of whiskey all in a month. She was going crazy when you _weren't_ in the cross hairs. Coming here is like putting a blade to her wrist. And then anyone can touch me."

"I love her," I needed to explain. For some reason I suddenly felt guilty for coming here. "I was going insane. The kids were going insane. She doesn't even call. I cannot tell you how many times a night I wake up from a nightmare about receiving a call that..." it was hard to even say. "I just wanted to know she was okay."

"I understand that," she nodded, "But the situation's precarious. I assume she has a plan because I know she doesn't want to live like this but what she's trying to get out of is a lot like the mob. There will be a lot of blood before this is over."

The phone started ringing. Maria readied her weapon and placed it so it was out of sight from the door. "Aren't you going to get that?" I mimicked her actions.

"No," she kept her eyes trained on the door, "That's someone checking who's home."

"That isn't good, is it?" I looked towards the window.

"No," she didn't turn, "The fact that someone wants to know who's home is not likely to have a positive outcome."

**BPV**

"I'll see you in twenty minutes," I passed him the card with the address.

"We're going to a strip club?" he looked at the sleazy piece of paper between his fingers. I just looked at him till he got it. "What are we going to do there?"

"Look," I told him the truth.

"We're not going there for the show so I assume we're looking for someone," he clearly hated being blind. That was too bad.

"Probably," was the best I could give him, "Whatever I'm supposed to find, I'll know when I see it. If that makes you uncomfortable, don't go."

"I'll see you in twenty," he was not very enthusiastic but Aaron felt obligated to protect me out of loyalty to Charles and his unyielding desire to do the right thing. I waited for him to pull out and went to sit on my bike for fifteen minutes. I wasn't concerned about my licence issues right now. I was concerned with what I would find in a strip club that Cain thinks would interest me. I was concerned that I was taking Aaron to a war zone he wasn't prepared for. I was concerned that Charles and Maria would get hurt. I was afraid that Charles would get hurt. I couldn't think. I needed the fifteen minutes to calm down.

I put on black gloves, good thing it went with the biker chick image. I parked in front of the place. No one asked me for ID but I was told to go to a private booth. This was bad. Aaron was sitting right in front, tucking bills into thongs. Nicely done. I opened the booth and closed it as soon as I saw who was inside. She reminded me of Victoria. Red hair, pale skin and what cannot begin to be described by mean streak. My nostrils filled with the smell of blood. I could almost see every inch of my skin she'd split with a blade. She called herself Hannah then. Ironically, the image that comes to mind when someone says Hannah is very far from a knife wielding sociopath.

One of us was being handed to the other. Hannah liked girls but she liked them young, and pure, like the rest of her associates. She wouldn't look for a girl in a strip club. There was no innocence here. The demolition team doesn't go to ruins to find work. He either wanted me to find her or vice versa. With Cain you just never knew.

"Hey baby," I held a stripper close. She was in a police outfit but not on the stage. She was at the bar. "Can I touch you?" I whispered in her ear.

"How badly do you want to touch me?" she asked in a seductive voice.

"Badly enough to pay a hundred dollars to touch you right here," I hoped I wouldn't get slapped and told strippers weren't prostitutes.

"Give it to me," she curled her leg around me.

"I'll give you a hundred and fifty if you tell the gentleman tipping in hundreds to go home," I stroked her cheek, "Tell him the biker said so." I slipped the money into her bra.

"Done," she said after she looked over her shoulder at Aaron.

"I'll watch you," I said in a low voice then I held her face between my hands and gave her a slow deep kiss.

"It's nice to have an audience," she ran her hand down between her breasts. I put my legs apart and my hands in my pockets. I smiled at her as she walked away. It wasn't just her I had to worry about. I checked out her ass until she made it to Aaron's position. She pulled him by his tie and whispered in his ear then she turn away from us both and signalled to someone I couldn't make out. The signal, however, I could recognise anywhere. She put her hand on one shoulder and dragged it to the other. You can't even trust a greedy stripper nowadays. Shit.

_Get out_ I mouthed to Aaron when he turned to look at me _Now. _He kissed a stripper on the thigh and stumbled to the door. Aaron was good at fooling people. Why he was so honest was beyond me. I walked past the stripper I'd kissed and pulled her onto the stage. "Kiss me," I pulled her close again. "My friend needs a decoy thanks to you and I will kill you if you don't. "

She leaned back and smiled. I pulled a knife on her and snapped it open next to her breast. She needed no further convincing. I caught a glimpse of the security guards as they ignored Aaron walking by and headed straight for me. "You're on," I snapped my knife shut as I jumped off the stage. I walked up to the security and played a card I wasn't sure I even had, "Let me through." I looked in his eyes. He stepped aside. It still wasn't clear which one of us Cain was trapping but I wanted out of this corner. Aaron was in the car but it was still parked. I put my hand under my chin and pointed my thumb towards the road. Aaron took off but only after I got on my bike and went on my way. Damn him for being so noble.

I took a phone from a pedestrian and called home. No one answered. This was a good sign. Any intruder would want them to answer the phone in order to seem normal but I'd taught Maria never to pick up the line. Anyone who needs you and knows you will call your cell. The rest... well we had unsavoury friends, _I_ more than _we_.

I was followed, she followed me, like I thought. Aaron was waiting in his car when I got back. "Get in," I parked, "Aaron, get inside." He looked from me to the door and back again. "Please," I brought my leg over and leaned against the bike. He gave up and went inside. A slick, tasteful car stopped a foot from my bike.

"You brought a man home," she sounded almost angry.

"You don't own me," my hand went to the knife in my pocket of its own accord. I tightened my hand then let go.

"Yes I do," she grabbed my chin and dug her thumb into my cheek. "Get in the car." Getting in that car was a bad idea. Stabbing her in the street was a bad idea. Taking her into the loft was a horrible idea. I looked at the door and then walked towards the car. I couldn't die today. That couldn't be my last moment with Charles. My last moment with my children couldn't be a fight. I couldn't die today but I couldn't have her here. I hated being stuck between a rock and a hard place yet I'd taken permanent residence there.

I got into the car. I had never been calustrophobic in my youth. Nineteen months in an eight by ten cell with no window changed that. Living in a huge house made me forget that feeling of confinement but as soon as all the car doors were closed I felt like I was in coffin. I refused to think this was prophetic.


	26. Chapter 26

**The good part of the night**

**APV**

"Hey kids," Isabella walked through the door after tapping it twice. She was covered in blood. None of the cuts on her could produce that much. Only one on each forearm looked worthy of stitches.

"What happened?" Charles was at her side in a flash.

"I brought a knife to a machete fight," she stepped back and held up her hands.

"That worked out for you," Maria brought over what looked an extensive first aid kit.

"I won," she began to clean her wounds.

"Let me do that," I freed her of her equipment. "Shit," I got a closer look at her stomach. "I need to cut you out of this shirt."

"What's wrong?" I could hear the fear in Charles' voice.

"It's a cut," I took the scissors. "You won't need stitches," I was amazed. "Just yards and yards of white," I passed some bandages to Charles, "Not even a pressure bandage." I threw her scrap of cloth on the floor. After a hundred yards of white gauze and eight stitches Humpty was put together again. Her upper right arm, her stomach, her left thigh and her right calf were wrapped in white. She put on clothes that I'm ninety percent sure weren't meant for sleep.

"Everybody out," she fished a bag out of the cupboard and threw it at Maria's feet.

"What the hell?" Charles grabbed her elbow.

"We have to leave," she stopped and didn't struggle.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"You are going home," she looked from me to Charles, "You're going to a hotel and I'll be back in about a month."

"Why?" Charles knew better than to try to stop her.

"I killed someone," that was the first time I'd heard her admit to that act with the required level of gravity.

"Why does that mean you have to leave?" Charles didn't let go.

"I stabbed her with a scalpel once and got beaten to within an inch of my life," she answered, "I don't wanna die and I don't want any of you to get hurt," she got her arm free of him, "Move!"

"I'm catching a ride with you guys," Maria was the first out of the door. Isabella grabbed a wallet and stuffed it into her back pocket. That was it for her luggage. Charles grabbed her as she passed him on her way out. He turned her towards him and kissed her. I closed the door when he dug his fingers into her ass and pressed himself into her, putting her on top of the table that doubled as a cupboard.

"Quickie?" Maria asked when I got into the car next to her.

"Looks like it," I closed the door.

"I didn't mean them," she started undoing her belt.

"What?" I couldn't have heard right.

"I live in fear of people I don't know," she explained while wiggling out of her pants, "I left behind all the people I do know and I'm just not brave enough to pick up a stranger," she was in my lap with all the grace and speed of a dancer, "All I want is a little human contact," she took her t-shirt off, "Is that too much to ask?"

My hand went up to her breast. It was covered in purple lace. Her skin was smooth, rich. I watched her face as I dragged my hands down her torso. Her bottom lip went between her teeth. Her eyes closed when my hands went up again and my thumb brushed over her nipple. My hands fell off her body when hers went down my pants.

"What?" she asked when she realised I'd stopped.

"Too fast," I put my hands on her hips.

"It's a quickie," she undid my pants.

"Okay," she had me there. I put my hand behind her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. I lifted my hips so she could get my pants down. She pushed her panties aside. "Wait," I held her in place before she could envelope me.

"Don't you want to use a condom?" I asked.

"Jesus Aaron," she pulled at her hair. "I don't have a condom, I haven't had sex in over a year and I was a fucking condom ad before that. How about you?"

"I don't have a condom either," my hand went up her thigh without my permission, which caused me to make a decision with a part of my anatomy that wasn't known for being wise, "But I'm clean."

"Good," she stroked my manhood and drew me closer. I let her take me inside of her. I felt her all over my body. The tingling heat covered me in my entirety. My heart was pounding so loudly in my ears that I could barely hear her shallow, heavy breathing. In this position, she was doing most of the work. She pressed up against me. Her chin was on my shoulder. Her hair smelled like jasmine. She adjusted the chair. Pushing me back while she leaned in the opposite direction. Taking me deeper into her. I watched her head fall back. She looked absolutely primal.

I pushed deeper into her. I could feel her even in my toes. She pulled one of her legs up to her chest. I watched myself inside her and my balls started to tighten. She brought it down on the other side and turned one hundred and eighty degrees, making me explode inside her. "Sorry," I said when she stopped moving and put her head on the dashboard.

"Don't be," she fell back onto my chest, "That was great."

"For all of two minutes," I ran my hand along her stomach, "In my defence I haven't done it in four years."

"Four years?" she turned to look at me.

"Don't do that," I hid my face in her hair, "I get enough of that from Charles. Shit," I pulled out of her, "Please get dressed before he comes out here."

"Seriously?" she got into the seat next to mine and fixed her underwear.

"I've been giving him shit about Isabella's age since he met her. I don't want to be told I'm a hypocrite right now. I already feel like a dirty old man," I pulled my pants up.

"I'm not a child," she slipped off her shoes and started putting on her pants angrily.

"It's not just that," I passed her shirt.

"What is it?" she asked when I didn't go on.

"I'm a monogamist. I don't do casual anything," I told her, "It makes me feel like shit that my semen is in your body and I don't even know your middle name."

"You do," she smiled, "It's Maria. My first name's Brandise."

"You missed the point," I shook my head, "Brandise?"

"And Morales is my mother's maiden name," she checked her appearance in the rear view mirror, "Mine was Court before I got mixed up in all this bullshit."

"Court?" I laughed, "Your last name is Court?"

"Your middle name is Bartholomew," she stopped me short.

"Where the hell did you get that?" I'd had that name erased. The rest of my identity was heavy enough without it.

"Isabella. Where else?" she rolled her eyes.

"Of course," I rolled mine, at myself.

"Aaron," she sounded close. I turned towards her and found my face an inch from hers. She put her hand under my chin and kissed me, slowly, tenderly, almost lovingly. I cupped her cheek and pulled her deeper into the kiss because it felt right. She nibbled on my bottom lip gently. I ran her tongue across her upper lip. Just as I was pulling her closer to me an obnoxious knock on the window interrupted.

I lowered the window, "Get in the back and keep your mouth shut."

"You get a free pass tonight," Charles threw himself into the back seat, "I'm too buzzed to care. Fortunately it also means I can't worry myself sick either. Tomorrow we'll have our sport. I'll have to distract myself somehow."

"I don't doubt that," I started the car. I looked at Maria. She smiled at me. I wanted to ask her what this was. It seemed like garden variety fucking before the kiss but that kiss... Shit! This is why I don't do this. I ran my fingers through my hair. She smiled like I was doing something cute. Which is a tad insulting, considering my age.

"Talk about it," Charles said from the back.

"What?" I asked.

"There's semen on the hand break," he pointed out.

"It's my car," I wiped my bodily fluids off it anyway.

"Talk about it," he repeated. "Stop guessing, stop assuming. That's the idiocy that cost me my marriage." Maria and I glanced at each other. "Want some pointers?" he wasn't waiting for tomorrow to take out his frustration after all, "The sidelong glances, the smiling, they're little things," he confirmed my guesses, "But they are something. After meaningless sex you look out the window and count the seconds till you get home, if you get a ride home. And that, kids, is my expert opinion."

"You sound drunk," I thought out loud.

"She has that effect on him," Maria agreed.

"Yeah, she does," he slurred, "Oh my fuck," he chuckled in that slow, lazy way people laugh when they've exceeded their limit by a wide margin.

"What?" I asked.

"I'm not drunk," he sounded deep in thought, "I'm drugged. My wife drugged me," he lay down. "Fuck," he swore when he tried to get up, "Izzy," he said with something between anger and admiration then he passed out. Of course her name would be the last thing to come out of his mouth.

"What do you want?" I asked Maria.

"Excuse me?" she turned her head and looked at me.

"I'm taking advice," it seemed wise, "I'm not guessing or making assumptions, I'm asking. I'm talking about it."

"What do you want?" she evaded.

"Maria," I wanted her to answer me.

She took a deep breath and let it out through her nose, "I want that," she pointed to Charles, "I want someone to love me so much I have to drug him to keep him away. If I ever have something with anyone. Heavy, for a first... date," she decided to call it.

"Yes," I nodded, "Heavy for a first date but so is sex... as far as I know. And honestly? I couldn't survive being Charles. I like you, and that's not something I'd say to just anyone, but I bruise easily."

"I like you, something I don't just say," she laughed a little, "So I'll be gentle when I handle you."

"So are we... What are we?" I wanted to be sure I had my facts straight.

"I'm not a romance thesaurus," she answered, "But I think it's called a relationship now."

"This is the strangest way I've ever started a relationship," I commented, "You?"

"I took off my clothes and jumped a guy in a car," she answered. We chuckled a little. I liked her humour. "I like to cuddle but I snore."

"I work too much," I confessed.

"I nest."

"You could perform surgery in my house," we seemed to be opposites in that respect.

"I dance to really loud music in the morning."

"I box to really loud music when I get off work, which is not set in stone," we seemed to have noise and sweat in common. "I think that's why God invented earphones."

"My pyjama's have cartoons on them."

"Jesus! You have pyjamas with CARTOONS," she had to be kidding me.

"Snoopy."

"How old are you?" I asked.

"Fourteen years younger than you," she answered.

"I'm forty one," I told her, "Charles was four years younger than everyone he graduated with. He's something of a boy wonder, as the multi billion dollar company might suggest."

"Eighteen years then," she tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Now I officially feel dirty," I pulled at my hair. "When you were born, I was a senior in high school."

"Charles was right," she sighed, "You can cast anything in the worst possible light."

"We're here," I stopped the car.

"We're moving awfully fast Dr McNair," she curled her feet under herself on the chair.

"Too early to see my house, huh?" I started the car.

"Yes," she opened the door, "But that hasn't stopped us from doing all the other things it's too early to do."

"Here," I handed over the keys, "I have 200 pounds of passed out friend to carry into the house."

"Good luck with that," she jumped out of the car.

"Thank you Brandise," I shouted over the roof of the car.

"Shut up Bartholomew," she shouted back. Charles was unbelievably unhelpful. I began to wish he was drunk. At least he would stumble along instead of being completely dead weight. I dropped him on the couch.

"Aren't you going to put a blanket over him?" she asked.

"He didn't when he drugged me," I led her to the living room.

"He drugged you?" she seemed to find this amusing.

"I asked for asprin, he gave me ecstacy and took me to a strip club," I told her, "Then he took pictures."

"Wow," she gasped, "You too were actually kids once."

"This is my music collection," I put my hand on top of the rack. "All of the CDs in it are older than you."

"Liar," was her first reaction, "Oh my gosh," she scanned the rack, "There's nothing here after nineteen eighty."

"I'm a purist," I hung up my coat, "Would you like the rest of the tour now?"

"I'll take the bedroom," she straightened up, "It's been a long night."

"This way," I took her hand and led her up the stairs.

"Are you obsessive compulsive?" she asked after looking around the room.

"I'm neat," I turned the covers down.

"_I'm_ neat," she looked in my wardrobe, "Your clothes are coloured coded within each type. Do you wear anything that isn't a suit."

"Of course I do," I smoothed the covers, "I can't box or perform surgery in a suit, can I?"

"There is a lot of grey in here," she brushed the arm of a jacket.

"You're dressed mostly in black," I pointed out.

"Isabella's doing," she told me, "I'm a pink and glitter kind of girl," she put her bag on the floor and took out a pink, satin and lace night dress.

"I'll wait outside," I walked out of the closet.

"How mid-century of you," she called from the other side of the doors. I smiled to myself and didn't respond. I undressed until I was left in just my boxers then I sat on the edge of the bed. She came in barefoot. The night dress was short and close cut. "Let's talk tonight."

"Do you have a nightgown that's more conducive to talking?" I got up and walked around the bed.

"Not really, no," she climbed into the other side.

"Okay," I climbed into bed, "What do you want to know about Aaron Bartholomew McNair?"

"Why did you decide to become a doctor?" she asked what I'm sure she thought it was a relatively easy question.

"My father killed my mother, my brother and my sister on my sixteen birthday. He bought a gun. My thirteen year old sister found it, he found her. He shot them all. The only reason I didn't die was that Ruth found that gun before I got home. She was the only one who wasn't shot in the head," a picture of my mother's one eyed face flashed across my mind, "I called 911 and applied pressure to the wound in her chest till the ambulance got there. Miraculously she made it to the hospital. They couldn't repair the hole in her heart."

"God," she patted the corner of her eye.

"She saved my life," I nodded, "I decided not to waste it beating myself up for not being able to save her."

"Why would someone do that?" she blinked away tears, "How could a man..."

"Paranoid schizophrenia," I answered. "Now let's talk about something that doesn't make you cry."

"Tell me something funny," she smiled through the tears, "I'm easy with a laugh."

"I'm not easy with humour," I scratched my head, "Sarcasm, irony, smart remarks, mockery, sure. Jokes, funny stories, not so much."

"Smart remarks? God you are middle aged," she chuckled.

"Very dry," she should know.

"I think I like it," she moved closer and put her head on my chest. I raised my hand to brush her hair but it seemed too parental. I lowered it and put it on her back.

"I think we should sleep," I moved my hand back and forth, "It's one in the morning."

"If I kick you in the night," she warned, "Please remember I haven't shared a bed in over a year."

"If you wake up on the floor," I kissed the top of her head, "Please know I've been sleeping crosswise on the bed for four years."

"Thank God," she sighed, "I was beginning to think you were serial killer."

"Because I'm organised?" I slid her off me so I could see her face.

"I was gonna use the world compulsive," she smiled, "But I'm reassured by the fact that you sleep crosswise on the bed. At least one part of you isn't squared away. Don't look at me like that," she brushed my hair back, "I like that you're straight but I want to know you're not the Unknown Citizen."

"I'm in bed with a woman eighteen years my junior," I pulled her hair gently.

"Point taken," she kissed my cheek. She yawned and her eyes fluttered shut.

"Go to sleep," I swept her hair back.

"Hold me," she scooted closer.

"Goodnight," I tightened my arms around her. She mumbled something I assumed was a response. I looked at her once before I turned off the lights. She looked beautiful, innocent but the most entrancing thing about her was the look on her face. It was one I had not seen on anyone in a long time: Peace. I didn't know then that she hadn't felt it in a long time before that night.

**The other part of the night**

**BPV**

The car pulled up in a neighbourhood that made my neighbourhood look like a suburb, and it was no secret that I lived in the slums. It made the people that didn't belong stand out. "This isn't your usual style," I commented. It was making me uneasy.

"He's just trying to accommodate your tastes," she seemed rather amused with herself.

"To what do I owe such kindness?" I got out of the car.

"He wanted us to have a little reunion," she put her head on the roof of the car and smile in the way children do when they talk about going to the park or getting ice cream.

"Oh joy," I said in a flat voice. This was trouble. "Is it a private party?"

"Yes," she asked for my hand like a turn of the century gentleman. I was so tired of these games. I gave her my hand. She led me into a building that looked about ready to be torn down. On the inside there was a room that had no business being in that building. It was made of plastic and collapsible. I was in a world of shit.

She slid the door out of the way. There was the light, in this building I was fairly certain there was no electricity. An all too familiar stool was in the middle of the room. The kind you find in a bar except it's made of metal. The leather cuffs are there, one strapped to each bar between the legs. It was the long restraints this time. This chair wasn't anchored to the floor. There wasn't enough time or stability here.

"He knows better," I walked inside. There was no way Cain could think I would submit to this at this point in my life.

"I know better," she closed the door behind me.

"What the hell is this?" I was getting really annoyed.

"You know what this is," she pulled out a box and lit a cigarette. She offered me one. I took it. She offered me a flaming lighter. I pulled her hand closer. I didn't have a skin graft on my wish list. When the cigarette was lit she snapped the lighter closed loudly to make a point.

"I know it's a game," I blew out smoke, "It's always a game," I puffed, "I'm more concerned about his motivation. And what the fuck you get out of participating."

She gave me a sharp slap. "You know I don't like it when you talk like that," she was cavalier. I smiled and leaned against the wall. "He's pitting us against each other. I'm here because I like you. I like playing with you," she leaned next to me.

"You don't know me," I turned to look at her. "You'd know this isn't going to be fun if you did," I slapped her right into the wall. The look on her face was absolutely priceless.

"I was hoping," she put her hand on her cheek, "I was hoping you would be peaceable. I would have protected you from him, from the dynasty."

The dynasty. Cain's family, if you can call it that. It's not often that you get a family that will go to bat for you like that, unless they fear you like everyone feared him.

"I don't give a shit," I laughed.

"He does," she told me something I already knew. "That's why he set this up," she spat, " I was his woman," she grabbed the front of my shirt, my ring with it. "He loved me... until you," she sneered. I didn't struggle. I just watched her. I couldn't help but smile, "But now he loves you too. The problem is: he can't choose. He's pitting us against each other so he doesn't have to," she sat in the stool.

"Good," I swiped the knife out of my pocket and opened it, "It's time."

"That it is," she put her hand under the seat. I knew there was something under there. I pulled my knife out and opened it in front of my face.

"It's like bringing a knife to a gun fight," she pulled out a machete. I laughed like I was mocking her. I wasn't, I was relieved. She was... classy, as she liked to consider herself. A machete was not one of those things. I was also relieved because I knew she didn't handle it as well as all the other blades she used... on me.

"It's a machete," I put my knife at my side, near both our stomachs, "A little butch for you."

"Like I said," she pulled it across her lap, "Trying to accommodate you tastes."

"Good times," I smiled genuinely. She was good with short bald blades. She was used to tied up victims. Good times. I kicked her in the stomach. Swinging the blade would have been premature.

"That's bad," she stood slowly, "That's too damn bad." she swung at my midsection. I ducked back but I was too close. I felt the blade swipe across my stomach.

War.

I was in a foul position. She swung again, higher than I'd hoped. More acutely than I'd hoped. She meant to cut off my head, still I was too close. I couldn't duck so I block. Arm versus Blade. The blade lost but the arm didn't exactly win. I couldn't swing from this distance. She duplicated her move, from a different side. Same story. Both my arms were fucked. She swung at my thigh. The hit was not direct this time. She'd gotten close enough for me to swing. I got her lower arm. I was aiming for the upper but the bitch was fast. She swung low, hit my calf. This bitch was fucking me over. I opened myself up. She took the bait. I put her under my arm stabbed her under the ribcage, from behind. Wrong side though. Right side. Enough to incapacitate but not enough to kill. She fell on her back. I sat next to her and watched.

"You can't kill me," she breathed.

"Why not?" I humoured her.

"He handed us to each other," she smiled through her obvious pain. "I have one question for you before I die."

I granted her the question. I knew it would be sadistic. I was sadistic too: I wanted to laugh in her face when she realised I did not feel, not this."What do you think he'll do?" she asked.

"I don't care," I answered.

"If you kill me," she said slowly," What do you think he'll do to you? Do you really think he'll let you walk away if you kill me?" she laughed a wheezing laugh. "He will not let you rest."

I pulled her head forward and ran the blade under her jaw. "I know," I sighed as she bled out, with a level of satisfaction I'd assumed would be greater, "I know."

I spent a full hour mopping up the blood. Fortunately for me my blade wielding opponent had brought supplies. I pumped some gas out of the car and torched the room, along with its inhabitant. I saved her handkerchief and used it to blow up the car, amazing what you can do with a damp cloth, provided you wet it with gas. Walking home was a bit of a chore. Damn these shoes.

I missed my kids. More importantly they missed me. I missed Charles. I was jealous that Kindle was sharing his bed. The fact that it was my idea didn't comfort me in the least. He'd taken my life from me, again. I cried from the hopelessness of it all.

"Give me all your fucking money," a gun was placed on the side of my very distracted head.

"Do I have a sign on my back that says, 'Assault me with a deadly weapon'?" I turned and asked.

"Bitch I ain't playing," he placed the weapon on my chest.

"It's dark so you don't see the blood," I touched the cut on my arm, "I was in a fight with a person who is now dead and on fire. I miss my family but I'm going into exile. A man keeps fucking with my life for his personal amusement and I want him dead. Everyone who stands in my way will die. That could include you. Believe me, I can do a lot with a three and a half inch blade," I opened my knife. "I don't care how many bullets you have in that gun. You don't have enough to stop me," I pressed my chest into the gun, "If you don't believe me ask yourself how I can walk down this street at this time of the night unafraid then get the fuck out of my way or get run over."

He stepped out of my way. "Learn a trade," I walked by him, "The only reason you're not dead right now is that it's dark so I know you haven't seen my face. You don't get that lucky twice. Learn a trade or die."

He didn't respond, just stood there till I was gone, maybe long after. I got home without further incident. It was the last time I would call this place home. When I had the head of Cain Wells I would return to the only place I truly considered home. Or I would be dead.


	27. Chapter 27

**AN: All this bullshit with the system has cost me some release. I'm going to town today.**

**CPV**

"Thank you for driving me home," I got out of Aaron's car. "You should consider buying a pink shirt."

"You always said I should never wear that colour because it doesn't go well with orange hair," he reminded me.

"It goes well with the colour in your cheeks," I said before closing the door. Aaron didn't stay. He was having breakfast with Maria. I walked into the house and hung up my coat and jacket. My tie was in my pocket.

"Morning dad," Eli appeared. "How'd it go?"

"She drugged me," I answered.

"I take it that was after the sex," he wrinkled the nose, "Go take a shower. Kindle's here. She's mad that you stayed out all night."

"Where's your brother?" I asked.

"In the laundry room, defiling the washing machine with Audrey Lewis," he answered casually.

"Tell me," I sighed, "What is this? Normal teenage infatuation? Experimentation? Or is he acting out because of the insane situation at home?"

"All of the above," he went to the fridge, rare for him. "And, as a bonus, he's interested in what you two will have to say about it."

"Why is that?" I asked.

"You're pretending to date Kindle, you're sleeping with her, as per mom's request. She's off in God knows where, doing God knows what, with God knows who. And the lingering smell of cocaine has a bitter twinge to it," he rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Neither of you is in a position to wag the finger at anyone."

"So I shouldn't say anything?" I tried to work it out.

"You should," he poured me some orange juice, "He's going to throw it all back in your face but you should say it anyway."

"He needs to vent," I realised.

"Rather you than mom," he pushed the glass towards me, "Those two can say the worst possible things at the very worst of times."

"It's called insensitivity," I guzzled my drink. "Thank you," I passed the glass back to him, "Excuse me, I have to pick a fight with my other son."

"You might want to grab a towel on the way," he called after me. Good advice. I grabbed a warm one and threw it at my son and his girlfriend. It was amazing how much he'd grown in the last year or so.

"Hi kids," I put my hands in my pocket. Audrey had the good taste to grab the towel and cover herself.

"Hi dad," Anthony was unashamed.

"I'm glad you had the good sense to use a rubber," I commented. "I'm Charles Bass," I extended my hand to the young lady once she was adequately covered.

"Audrey Lewis," she shook it.

"Are you two an item?" I asked them.

"What's your idea of an item?" my son asked. Score one for Anthony.

"Tony," Audrey slapped his shoulder.

"Yes dad," he nodded, "We are an item."

"I like you," I smiled at Audrey, "Not many girls your age would date a freshman."

"You don't know how old she is," Anthony pointed out. I looked at Audrey.

"Seventeen," she answered.

"Nicely done," I nodded at Anthony. "I'll leave you two alone," I turned to leave, "One more thing Miss Lewis. Don't break his heart. He might not like me very much right now but he's my family and I love him. Even when he's being an ass I'd do anything to protect him."

"I get it," Anthony called after me, "You'll do anything to protect her," he paused and laughed, "You'll do anything for her no matter the circumstances. I like the principle but the things you do sometimes..?" he sighed, "But you're my family." I just nodded and turned to walk from the room. "And as your teenage son I feel obliged to make your life hell whenever I disagree with you."

"That's my boy," I raised my hand without turning around. I stopped just outside the door and laughed silently.

"You have a weird relationship with your dad," Audrey giggled.

"You should see me with my mom," Anthony said in a somewhat husky voice.

"Tell me why you're sad," she pleaded.

"My mom's been gone for a month," he confided, "And I hear she plans to stay away for another one. She... lives on the edge so we all freak out till she comes home. Dad ends up having to do some things he should rather not."

"I love her," I whispered.

"I get it," he answered, "Love is an ugly thing."

"Cynical much?" she exclaimed.

"You just stood in front of my father in a towel after he caught us having sex," he pointed out.

"You think I love you?" she asked.

"I certainly hope so," he answered, "Because I think I might love you."

"Way to commit," she evaded.

"Way to evade," he returned.

"Sap," I walked away.

"I am my father's son," he yelled after me.

"What?" she was confused.

"I hear his footsteps," he said loudly for my benefit.

"I'm going to bed," I called over my shoulder as I made my way back to the kitchen, "Your mother drugged me," I said under my breath.

"She drugged you?" Eli whispered.

"Why are you whispering?" I asked.

"Kindle," he whispered backing out of the door. This day just keeps getting better. A hard object I later discovered was a tangerine hit my right shoulder.

"Morning Charles," she sounded angry.

"It is now," I rubbed the new sore spot.

"I will not be one of your wives," she threw more fruit at me, "I will not be one of those women."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"You take me out to expensive restaurants and I'm your date to all the events you attend but you're not really with me," she brought her hand down with slow force, "You have sex with me but I feel like you're somewhere else half the time and the cherry on the cake is that you eat here, go fuck someone else and return, shamelessly, the next day. Stop me when it starts to sound familiar."

"I'm sorry," it sounded all too familiar.

"You will not treat me like that Charles," she willed me to look her in the eye. "If you plan to then get out now."

I considered it for two seconds. Kindle was a good person and a good friend. I did not relish using her to validate Isabella's lie. Then I discarded it. I wasn't known for my virtue but I did not flaunt my lack thereof. People talk, of course, hence my reputation but nothing could ever be proved. I never showed up to events with a model on each arm. In the public eye I was steady. Cain had a long reach. Surely he knew that. Getting a new girlfriend now would be suspicious.

"I'm giving you an out," she pulled me from my thoughts.

"I'm in," I brushed her cheek for effect, "I'm in."

"I need you to stop sleeping with your ex wife," she folded her arms.

"I didn't sleep with her," I lied, "I just went to see if she was safe. We have kids together. They got worried when their mom didn't come home or call for a month. I got worried. I didn't sleep with her. I spent the night at Aaron's."

"Do you know how I know you're lying?" she put her hand on her hip. "You didn't even pretend not to know which one of your ex wives I was talking about," she pointed out. I did not have the energy for this dance.

"I didn't want you to get mad again," I brushed the spot where she'd hit me with a pawpaw.

"Never again," she made it clear I was not to disappear to see my Izzy. That was insanity.

"Never again," I nodded.

"I'll come by after my shift," she kissed my forehead. "The chairman can stay in bed all weekend but the nurses have to work. And for some reason they pay you more."

I was about to crack one about how they were just giving me interest on my investment but I had a feeling that would lead to another food fight. "I'm irreplaceable."

"And that's my cue," she turned and left.

"You know this is wrong, right?" Eli appeared out of the blue.

"Yes," I knew exactly what he was talking about.

"It's even more wrong than you think," he followed me up the stairs.

"Really?" how much more fucked up could this get?

"Kindle," he started, "She's in love with you."

"Bullshit," I leaned against the railing.

"That sounds about right," he squeezed my shoulder then walked the rest of the way.

"Why now?" I asked myself.

"Apparently you now pass for a human being," he walked backwards, "You know? The kind with a beating heart."

"Et tu Eli?" I restarted my ascent.

"I want you to know," he got uncharacteristically serious, "Whatever it is you're covering for mom by sleeping with Kindle, the price just went up. I know you're a good man and I know you love my mother but I need you to know that when it's over you're going to break the heart of a good woman."

"I'd never hurt your mother," I put my hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not under the illusion that my mother is a good woman," he laughed.

"Maybe not," I joined his laughter, "But she is a jealous one," I warned, "She catches on that you like Kindle and she'll make her life a living hell."

"She catches on that Kindle likes you and she'll make her life a living hell," he returned, "And if you ever fall for Kindle we're all becoming permanent residents of the great state of hell."

"I will love her forever," I tried to calm the fear he seemed to have of Kindle's powers of seduction.

"I don't doubt that," he smiled, "But I have a feeling that she does."

"How could she doubt that I love her?" it was so ridiculous to me.

"The woman is self-loathing to an almost pathological degree," he looked down sadly, "Only God knows what happened to her in the nineteen months that she was gone. I know that I can't mention His name in front of her. Maybe she was in a cult where they told her she was vermin. I don't know but she hates herself for something so she won't believe that you love her, especially how much you love her. It's miraculous."

"I didn't know I was capable of it," I put my hand on my chest, "It kills that she's not here. She's-"

"Your life," he cut in. "I know. I'm going to do something out of character."

"What?" I was suddenly afraid of the look in his eyes. It was the same look she had when she declared jihad.

"I'll bring her what she wants," he looked me in the eye with that same look, "I'll bring her the head of Cain Wells."

Fear gripped my heart with icy fingers. They didn't inherit her eyes or her hair or her build. They did, however, inherit her sense of vengeance.


	28. Chapter 28

**CPV**

"How do you know his last name?" I ignored his last sentence. The people in this family were prone to wanting to do something when they are told they cannot.

"I may not be able to read her mind but I can read those that talk to her," he answered, "Even from the other side of a gala."

"You know what he looks like," I felt more and more despair. Eli could kill a man if he wanted to. But murder in the first degree was not something I wanted on his conscience.

"So do you," he tilted his head, "He's made enemies all over town. One of them just yelled at you."

"What?" I couldn't believe he was right under my nose.

"She slept with him," he told me, "She was trying to get your attention or trying to spite you. I'm not sure, neither is she. He tied her up. It started out fun but he didn't untie her till her wrists were purple. They stayed that way for nine days. You did not notice. She had an exchange with him in the reception area. You missed that too. You've been absent Dad. Almost as much as mom but worse because we have to live with your ghost."

"I'm sorry," I put my hand on his shoulder. "I should have noticed but let me deal with this. You're a lot more mature than you act most of the time but you're my child. I can't let you do this."

"Someone will at some point," he pointed out, "Isabella Marie Bass is not famous for her patience. You always want to protect her. And your patience is not infinite. At some point he's going to be put in the ground," it chilled me that he said it without the slightest flinch, "I'm not risking either of you going with him."

"Can't you go back to being the mild tempered child who could laugh anything off?" I wished really hard.

"I will," he smiled, "You just wait," he walked towards the door, "I'm going for a run. Anthony is really starting to fry my brain."

"About that," I followed him, "It seems like everybody's getting laid," I started.

"I'm not having sex," he answered, "Everyone?"

"Aaron," I laughed.

"The monk?" he stopped midway through the door and turned.

"And Maria," I delivered the punchline.

"Just my luck," he slammed the door in my face.

"What the hell?" I stood there looking at the door.

"Remember that girl he was crazy about that didn't know he was alive?" Anthony showed up out of nowhere.

"Maria?" I turned and looked upon my towel clad son.

"Yep," he seemed a little breathless.

"Slow down," I raised my hand, "You have a very long time to use that thing."

"Ha ha," he gave me a phony smile, "Blood," he slid to the floor, "I had to get out of there."

"I thought you could handle blood," I went to sit next to him.

"I can," he put his head in his hands, "It's different with her. It's like her blood calls to me. I have no idea how to explain it. Its torture but... she's addictive," he smiled like a dope.

"I know all about addictive women," I shook my head at the look on his face. "Anthony," something occurred to me, "Why is the little girl bleeding?"

"Oh Dad no!" he looked at the ceiling, "It's not me, I swear."

"I have a bleeding minor in my house. I need a little more than 'It's not me'," I turned his face toward me.

"Natural causes," he swatted my hand away, "I have to go. She's wondering why the fuck I freaked out."

"You might want to make a rag out of the towel," I suggested. Christopher Columbus couldn't find a tampon in this house.

"You're in a particularly fun mood today," he got up, "And don't worry about Eli's intentions for now. For now," he emphasised.

"And yours?" I asked.

"I'm the son with good sense," he turned and walked backwards out of the room, "I know that it doesn't matter how strong or how fast I am, you guys would never let me kill anyone."

"I never figured Eli would have the most dangerous rebellion," I said as I got up.

"I never figured you'd be the one who kept the home fires burning," he returned.

"You are your mother's son," I commented on his insensitivity.

"And you are my mother's bitch," he walked away. I couldn't argue with that.

I decided to be proactive. I took the motorcycle. Getting stuck in traffic was the last thing I needed. Thank goodness this machine was built for speed. I parked it and ran into the hospital. "Who did Kindle have a screaming match with from the building across the street?" I asked the first person I could lay my hands on.

"Your first choice for your right hand man," the greasy kid told me. My heart stopped. It was him. The mother fucker whose eye socket she exposed at a party _I_ threw for him. I ran out and into Basil Holdings. I never understood the reasoning behind opening a business across the street from a hospital but today I was just grateful that someone did.

"I'm looking for Timothy Swallows," I said to the receptionist.

"He's gone," the straight-backed woman answered, "Disappeared like a fart in the wind. He hasn't come into work in a week."

_One of two things _I thought to myself, _She's killed him or one of them has kidnapped the other._ I couldn't let myself think that he'd killed her or I would die on this very spot. If she's dead, it's over. He weaselled his way into my company to get to her. He wouldn't waste such effort if she wasn't valuable to him alive.

I held on to all those ideas fiercely. I wouldn't have survived the three weeks that followed if I hadn't.

**APV**

"Good morning," Maria greeted me with breakfast.

"I like you," I sat up so she could put the tray in my lap.

"I like me too," she took a bite of my bacon. No, that wasn't meant to sound dirty. She'd changed into her Snoopy pyjamas. They were pink. A little t-shirt and matching shorts. Snoopy was sleeping on something that could be a cake a suitcase or, if you squint, a bed.

"Your pyjamas are ridiculous but your pancakes are amazing," I said after a bite, "So I suppose I shouldn't have bought into the 'dancers don't eat' stereotype."

"My metabolism is crazy,"she took a pancake, "So is my appetite." I turned to her with a smile. "Get you mind out of the gutter," she turned my face forward. "Breakfast is served with a side of interrogation."

"Ask me anything," I gave the permit.

"Why don't you have any other friends?" she asked.

"I'm self-righteous and insufferable," I answered, "And gregarious is not the first word I'd use to describe myself."

"Why is he your friend?" she asked through her laughter.

"He's my brother," I answered, "My mom worked for the judge. He put me in school with Charles because he was so much younger than everyone else and had learned his manners from his father."

"I've never met his father," she interrupted.

"Very nice man," I answered, then I remembered she wouldn't know I was being sarcastic, "The first time he met Isabella he took one look at her and said, 'I see standards have slipped'."

"How'd she take that?" she sounded enthusiastic.

"She was different then, quiet," I remembered,"She never touched alcohol, let alone drugs. She was self-sacrificing and wouldn't hurt a fly."

"What happened?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"We don't know," I leaned into her, "She fell off the face of the earth for a couple of years and returned the person you know today."

"Were you sleeping with her?" she asked after a moment of silence.

"No," I turned to look her in the eye, "I never touched her. We wanted to surprise Charles for his birthday by getting him James Dean's car. That was no easy feat so collaboration was required. We pulled it off. She jumped into my arms in celebration. Big misunderstanding. Do you really think either of us would sleep with the other?" I asked.

"Would anyone say yes if you asked them that about you and me?" she asked.

"Fair enough," I gave her that one, "I've only been with one woman other and she's not Isabella."

"One?" her eyes looked like they would pop out. I closed my eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry," she stroked my face, "It's not something you hear everyday from a man over forty. Hell, or one over twenty."

"You know just the perfect thing to say," I opened my eyes.

"Okay, I haven't been in an environment that cultivates sensitivity," she explained, "I'm sorry."

"I wasn't being sarcastic," I turned around put the tray between us, "I don't give a shit about sensitivity. I'm a huge fan of honesty."

"Who is she? This only other woman," she wanted to know. I bit into some bacon, eggs, bread and a tomato slice. "Fine," she shrugged.

"Emmanuelle," I answered, "Like the French porno," I laughed, she introduced herself that way, "Lived fast."

"How fast?" Maria asked.

"Party girl, expensive taste, smoker, revealing clothes, very flirtatious, very messy," I shook my head, "Centre of attention wherever she went and eleven my senior."

"Excuse me Mr Stick-up-your-ass," she was as surprised as everyone before her.

"I know," I nodded, "No one ever understood. The guy who wears the Star of David," I tugged on it, "And the centrefold hanging on every man's wall in nothing but a pair of white stockings."

"Fuck," she covered her mouth with her hand, "What eventually broke the camel's back?"

"Cancer," I knew breakfast was a bust when the conversation went down this road, "Pancreatic Cancer." I put the tray on the bedside cabinet.

"I'm sorry," she brushed my arm somewhat awkwardly.

"So am I," I held her hand to my bicep, "She was one of those people that were so full of life it seemed ridiculous that she was dying. And she didn't want to die a slow painful death..." I didn't stop to consider my next admission, "I euthanized her."

She gasped. "Hardest thing I've ever done," I said looking down, "I got a six month suspended sentence during which I couldn't practice medicine. It was a slap on the wrist considering I could have gone to jail for thirty years."

"You must have really loved her," she smiled in that strange way women do so to confuse you.

I nodded, "Now you tell me about someone you loved."

"My father," her smile was still enigmatic, "He was the more supportive parent. My mother thought ballet was a pastime."

"Ballet?" I couldn't believe it, "With that ass?"

"I've been benched for a year," she slapped me lightly, "I have every right to let my ass get huge."

"I'm glad you exercised it," I squeezed her thigh, "Back to the father of the year."

"I wouldn't call him that ," she scratched the side of her face, "A few years ago I would have. Now he is incarcerated."

"What happened?" I prompted when she didn't continue. She laughed humorlessly.

"He killed my mother," she lay on her back. I heard the same bitter laughter coming from my mouth. I dropped next to her and we laughed. "He was perfectly sane, relatively speaking. I have no idea why he did it. I asked him once. He didn't even bother to answer me."

"I'm sorry," I rubbed her shoulder.

"I guess we have more in common than being left handed," I kissed her forehead. "But I meant someone you were in love with."

"No one," she closed her eyes, "I couldn't bring myself to, not after what had happened."

I didn't know what to say so I took her in my arms and buried my face in her hair. I inhaled the fading scent of jasmine. "Lie on your stomach," I moved back, "I'm not being dirty. I'm gonna rub your back. Help you relax." I started on her shoulders and worked my way down. She moaned and arched and told me where she needed the most attention.

Then the damn phone rang. I didn't want to answer it but when you're a doctor and have the family that I do, not picking up the phone is never an option. "This better be good," I answered. I heard soft laughter from Maria.

"I wish I could say it was," Judge Bass sighed.

**BPV**

"Guess who's back?" Cain smiled, waiting in his chair when I entered his office.

"Guess who never left," I sat down on his desk, "There's a room under this building that no one knows about and the lift," I pointed.

"How would you know that if, as you say, no one knows," he pulled the chair closer to me. He couldn't sit between my legs because they were both on his desk, under me.

"The devil is alive I feel him breathing," I lay on my back.

"I know the devil," he moved closer to my head, "She is a seducer of many."

"You rented me out for a fee or favour," I said to the ceiling, "It was hardly seduction."

"You seduced me way before that," he ran his fingers along my thighs, "Let's fall in love again," he put his head in my lap and looked up at me with eyes that looked sweet and innocent to those who didn't know better.

"You fell in love," I stroked his cheek and then talked into his ear, "With power."

"With you," he grabbed my hair and kept my face close to his. This was an awkward position. I was folded in on myself with his head between my legs and my face.

"You know I can never love you," I laughed to add effect to my next words, "No one could, me especially. You took my child from me."

"You drowned her," he pushed my head from his, so he could look into my eyes, "You killed our baby girl."

"I saved her," I looked him right in the eye, "I saved her from you." What life could she have had?"

"You want blood as much as I do," he got up and started pouring liquor.

"Neat," I sat up and touched the rim of the glass, "Don't brutalise my scotch," I covered the opening with my hand when he reached for the ice.

"You killed Frank," he handed me the glass, "And he was so good to you."

"And you never wondered why I would do such a thing?" I was curious.

"Blood lust," he sounded sure.

"He asked me to," I confessed, "He knew you would slaughter his family or worse if you ever found out he helped me escape."

"And he gave his life for you?" he laughed.

"For me? No," I played with my glass, "He just wanted to buy back a piece of his soul."

"And then of course there's Billy," he stood closer and smelled my hair.

"You killed Billy," I put my glass to his face.

"What did you think I would do when you fucked him?" he grabbed the hand with the glass and pulled my arm around his neck. He sniffed down my forearm as I stood against him.

"Honestly?" I pulled back to face him, "I thought you'd kill us both."

"Allan and Jamal," he put his elbows on the desk, being careful not to pin my hair.

"You're kidding," I laughed. Any person watching the exchange would swear we shared some affection.

"You chose them to die," he sipped his alcohol.

"You were going to kill all three of them," I rolled my eyes at the attempt to hurt me, "I just chose one of them to live."

"You know why you should come back to me?" he stroked my cheek.

"It's snowing on the hills of hell?" I asked.

"I know you and I love you," his blue eyes sparkled, "How many people can say those two things honestly?"

"You don't love me," I laughed at the notion of Cain in love, "You love the way it makes you feel to have power over me. It wasn't so appealing when I was a frightened little girl. Now that you've seen that I'm actually dangerous, it's unbearable to watch another man play the dominant role in my life."

"I don't plan to watch for long," he hissed, "One way or another Isabella, I will have you. And let me tell you, alternative means might come into play. I'm getting tired of playing nice."

The funniest part was that he wasn't lying. His actions so far were nice, for him. "What you did to Kindle wasn't right," I sat in his chair, "She's a sweet girl. Very pampered, very vanilla. Tying her up till she turned purple? That wasn't nice."

"You didn't expect me to live like a monk, did you?" he shifted to sit in front of me. "You're right about the vanilla part. I didn't even do anything unspeakable. It was entertaining until it got boring. You always forced me to get creative," he pulled my leg up and put it on top of his.

"Remember when I said you make my skin crawl?" I crossed my free leg over the one in his lap, "That wasn't accurate. You make it cold. You're not gonna get a rise out of me."

"You looked for me for three weeks," he rubbed my shin, "I've already gotten the rise. Oh and I have a souvenir from my little game with the blond," he pulled a lacy thong and dangled it in front of my face, "I take it wherever I go."

"You know what astounds me about you?" I leaned back, "For all your sadism and your zeal you're a fraud. See most people who kidnap, rape and otherwise fuck with other people buy into their own bullshit. Not you. You know I could never love you. You don't care. You know you don't love me. You just use that as a label, maybe you even think it's poetic. You don't believe in God. You pretend to just to fuck with the last place people turn for hope. Because really, if you can poison something like that..."

"I love how you stimulate me in every way," he put the underwear in his pocket and his hand crept farther up my leg.

"But you and I can never be," I watched him lean into me. "You want your toy. I want my freedom. We are at an impasse but for one thing: I have to be alive in order for you to get your way."

"You're not going to kill me," he laughed, "I'm not alive because I'm a popular man."

"I never made the mistake of thinking that," I took the knife out of my pocket and opened it, "But we both want my life. I just want it more," I put my elbow on the table.

"You will never have it if I'm dead," he put his hands on either side of my face. Cain's belief that he was invincible was the one thing that would lead to his death. So arrogance becomes my ally.

"One thing Cain," I pushed my face closer to his, "You're not a popular man," I stuck the blade in his lower back, under his ribcage, in an upward angle. Standing to increase deepen the thrust. The only emotion that flickered across his face was shock. His fingers dug deeper into my flesh as I pulled the blade to the side. Widening the incision. He opened his mouth, I think to speak, but only blood came out. "If anyone knew I killed you they would probably send me flowers," I informed him, "Don't respond, I don't want any more of your blood on me."

"It's... daylight," he tried to stay upright.

"It's morning. No one's paying attention," I stood up and supported him but he was too heavy. I put him in the chair and fell on top of him. "Goodbye Cain," I kissed his bloody lips, "I'll see you in hell."

I walked into the office bathroom and got cleaned up. I made a silent exit in the secret lift and to the underground parking lot. There weren't a lot of people or cars. I stepped out of the lift and into his car, parked conveniently in the blind spot.

A feeling came over me. It took me a while to recognise it because it wasn't something I'd ever felt before. It was an invigorating sense of freedom. I felt like I could finally have everything I wanted. The last part was a mistake. A war of a different kind was coming but it wasn't like I didn't know that love was a battlefield.


	29. Chapter 29

**APV**

"We have to talk," I walked into Charles' office as calmly as I could. I couldn't afford to draw attention to my actions today. I even took an extra shift in the ER so I was wearing scrubs. Charles was sitting behind his desk with his eyes closed.

"I'm not promising to listen," he opened his eyes.

"It's about what you saw," I pointed to the window.

"Traffic?" he asked, but I knew I had his attention.

"You're gonna play this game with me?" I asked.

"What game is that?" he brought his brows together. He may not have brought his A-game but he was definitely playing.

"You don't trust me?" I was shocked to realise.

"Wipe the hurt expression off your face," he rolled his eyes at me, "You know I trust you with my life."

"You just don't trust me with hers," I was tempted to turn and walk out of the room.

"It's not my secret to tell Aaron," he avoided my eyes, "But you seem to know it already so let's not play games." His voice was pleading more than anything else.

"Prepare yourself," I sat down in front of him.

"That bad," he put his elbows on his desk and entwined his fingers.

"General knowledge," I put the folder in front of him and opened it, "A man by the name of Timothy Swallows was killed around to seven o'clock this morning in the building next door," I showed him a crime scene photo, "You can see through his window when you stand on the balcony," I showed him some recon that was done for him under the pretence of finding a selling point for this office, "You were standing on the very spot this picture was taken," I showed him a picture I hadn't seen till today.

"There are still crime scene investigators next door," he looked out of the window as if to check that they were still there.

"Someone worked very fast," I nodded.

"I admire their dedication," he was obviously preoccupied, "What does this have to do with me?"

"You witnessed a murder for which there are numerous suspects," I pointed out the first obvious thing, "Someone knows it and they don't plan on letting you be silent." I watched his face, first came understanding, then fear, then panic. "Calm down," I tried not to yell.

"Calm down?" he stood up, "You're telling me to calm down?"

"Nobody knows it's Isabella," I said the one thing I knew would work.

"If nobody knows then how do you know?" he dropped the pretence.

"You witnessed a murder and you're standing there pretending not to know a thing about it," I stated, "There are four people you'd do that for: it's not me and the boys are in school."

"I would have told you, eventually," he admitted, "But this was not necessary."

"I would have waited," I told him honestly, "If only it were just me."

"Who else?" he sat down and put his face in his hands.

"I don't know," I said in a low voice, "These were hand delivered to your father's office," I pointed to the photos, "When you didn't take his call he tried me. I don't think he put it all together but he did recognise that it was some dangerous information."

"I don't get how you put it all together," the wheels in his head started turning.

"With the help of a note I destroyed," I couldn't risk anything in a situation this precarious, "It's almost like someone planned this," and carefully, "Because it boils down to this: of all the people that will be suspected of this crime, only two are without alibis," I looked at him across the desk, "Isabella and Kindle," I looked down to avoid his expression, "One of them will be prosecuted eventually and Kindle got a few tickets punched in Seattle at the most inconvenient times."

"Seattle," he breathed.

"High profile murders with almost the same MO," I knew I would have to spell this all out, "And there's a lot of pressure to punish the party responsible for the killing spree in Seattle so the 'almost' part of the last sentence is expendable."

"If someone is framing Kindle what does Isabella have to do with it?" he asked.

"Besides the obvious?" I asked before I could get my brain-to-mouth filter working, "Isabella is the only other person who wasn't best friends with the dead guy and is without an alibi for anything because no one can ever account for her whereabouts."

"Doesn't that put them both in the line of fire?" his subconscious was already looking for a way to avoid what was coming.

"The DA isn't going after someone whose whereabouts aren't known when they have someone they can place in Seattle and has a medical background," I laid it out, "You're facing obstruction charges if you don't testify and purgery charges if you do because we both know you're not going to tell them Isabella did it."

"What else can I do?" he brought his hands down on the teak and got to his feet.

"You can marry her," I said. His brows knitted then he sat down. "Then they can't drag you to the stand. In fact, I don't think they'd even drag her to court. Without that testimony their evidence is circumstantial at best."

"There must be some other way," he sat down. "They're playing pin the tail on the killer. We just have someone in that building who came in to work that day who doesn't like the guy. That's not hard when dealing with top management."

"Seattle?" I reminded him.

"Speculation," he returned.

"True," I admitted, "But there isn't any such person."

"How would you know that?" he was not giving in just yet, "You've looked for all of forty five minutes."

"There is no one else," I spoke each word slowly and calmly.

"I could just be an alibi for Kindle," he was grasping at straws.

"Then law enforcement has only one person to go after," I pointed out. He covered his face. When he removed his hands he looked so hopeless I knew he finally got it.

"I have a feeling she won't like this," he picked up the phone.

"You can't tell her," I put my hand where the phone was.

"Are you insane?" he seemed to be asking seriously.

"You want her, along with Kindle, the judge and yours truly, not to mention you, to risk being charged with eight counts of conspiracy to commit murder?" I tried to put things into perspective for him.

"Izzy can keep a secret," he was pointing it out rather than trying to convince me.

"I know," I wasn't doubting her ability to lie, "But she cannot hold her tongue and frankly, she's a self-destructive bitch."

"Don't call her that," he shook his head.

"That is not even on the same hemisphere as the point," he frustrated me so much.

"Can't you see?" he seemed not to believe I couldn't, "She is the point."

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't know that," I assured him, "You can save her but you can't do it by throwing Kindle to the sharks."

"I know that," he dug his fingers into his temples, "Dammit!" he hit the desk with his fist but it had no power. He looked like he was going to cry.

"You can't fall apart now," I walked around the desk, "You need to get married today. You need to convince Kindle that she's the love of your life because we both know she can't lie for shit," I grabbed his hair and jerked his head sideways, "Get your game face on. The judge is handling all the arrangements. We're doing this in secret. We wouldn't want anyone to know you got married after the fact."

He sat down and closed his eyes. I took the box out of my pocket and set it on the table. "Looks like you guys came to play," he said in a flat voice, looking at the ring. It was a rare, almost 25 carat pink diamond that had been sold almost four decades ago for a record breaking price to an anonymous buyer.

"He had this the entire time?" Charles was momentarily distracted.

"I think he bought it for your mother," I couldn't be sure. He never spoke a word about her.

"Of course he'd choose this garbage dump of a situation to bestow that gift on me," he redirected his anger.

"Again," I reminded him, "Far from the point."

"I wish I could say goodbye," he closed the box and put it in his pocket, "Have one last good day, a moment even."

"Charles," Isabella barrelled through the door. Her hair was down, her eyes were bright and her cheeks had the rosy colour I thought I'd never see in them again. She tripped and held on to the door handle laughing. She bit her lips and nodded.

"Okay," she tucked her hair behind her ear, "Here's the thing," she gestured with her hands like she was actually holding something, "I'm free," she laughed and wiped the corner of her eye, "I'm a billionaire and I'm free so I could do just about anything. And all I want is to come home."

The room was still and quiet for a beat. "Isabella," Charles got to his feet.

"Shut up," she put her index finger up, "You're answering too quickly," she laughed. It was the first time I'd heard a nervous laugh come from her lips. "I'm no picnic," she started talking smoothly again, "Most people in your life will never like me. And with good reason. I'm rude, and childish and I have the sensitivity of a... head of cabbage. I have done things, unforgivable things, and I can't remember ever letting bygones be bygones because the human memory just doesn't go back that far.

"All these things," she made a sweeping gesture, "You already know about me," she turned her palms up, "So here are a few you probably don't and I think you should," she looked at him in silence for a moment, still completely ignoring me, "I'm never going to be nice, this is as grown up as I will ever get and I'm not sorry about anything," she shook her head slightly.

"Also, I think 'compromise' is the ugliest word in the English language so you can't expect change," she cut the air with her hand, "I know you've had a taste of normal, even sweet, with Kindle and company," she scratched needlessly behind her ear, "And I can't give you that but I'm a jealous woman so I better get to the point," she ventured a glance in my direction, "I am flawed," she turned back to Charles, "But I need to know that that's enough because I love you."

Charles was on his feet again. I put my foot slowly on top of his. He seemed oblivious. "And if you still love me, not the person I could be if you gave me some time, the person I am now, then you can't have the rest of it," she shook her head.

"Izzy," he sounded on the verge of tears now. On any other day I would think it was joy but not today. He pulled his foot out from under mine and walked around the desk.

"Not yet," she whisked across the room and put her hand on his lips, "Sleep on it. Think of all the things you're going to have to give up. If you think I'm worth it," she kissed him. I think she meant it to be a teaser but he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her passionately. "Only then," she pushed him back, "Find a way to let me know."

She tried to leave again but he grabbed her hand and kissed her. He was gentler this time, cupping her face. I may as well have been a chair. I closed his laptop to remind him of my presence and, more importantly, the present situation. He let her go. She walked backwards out of the door, smiling and blushing. He stood there, staring at the door.

"One last good day," I got him out of the trance, "One last moment."

"It's not enough," he walked, almost stomped, up to me, "Not nearly enough," he sat down on top of it.

"I know," I almost put my hand on his shoulder but I thought better of it.

"She's going to crucify me," he laughed bitterly. I couldn't help but scoff. Hearing about Charles' nuptial was tomorrow was going to send Isabella into a blind rage. It was utterly ridiculous that he thought he was going to be the only one she'd take it out on.

The door opened again. This time it was Kindle. I bit back the sigh. "Enough," she folded her arms in the doorway, "I won't do this any more. I'm done."

"So am I," Charles stood up, "I'm done with everyone else so I can't let you be done with me. Marry me K."

"I came here to yell at you," she slammed the door behind herself, "And you propose?"

"It's been a long time coming," he opened the box.

"Oh my God," she gasped. He pulled the ring out of the box and went to slip it on her finger.

"Marry me Kindle," he put her hands around his neck, "Right here," he kissed her lips, "Right now," he kissed her neck.

"That's insane," she said without much conviction.

"I've been insane to not to see the right woman when she was in front of me for so long," he laid it on thick, "I don't want to wait another second."

"Let's do it," she smiled radiantly. Charles called his father then he married Kindle. He turned his back on Isabella and hurt her even though he knew the chances of being forgiven were slim to none. Why didn't anyone warn me that the world was ending?


	30. Chapter 30

**MPV**

"Well?" Isabella stood in front of me in the blue and black number.

"Pasty," I answered. The blue complimented her colour but the black made her look like a cadaver.

"But I like this one," she stood in front of the mirror, "And I do look pasty."

She was going to be in the next Victoria Secret fashion show. Short and inexperienced as she was, I have no idea why they would want her. Her decision to be in the show was another one I couldn't understand but it was better than getting plastered and bringing home a complete stranger.

"Do models get to pick what they wear?" I'd never heard of that.

"I'm not a model," she said with the barest hint of melancholy.

"You know what?" I tried to cheer her up, "I can change that." I watched her face. First she was irritated, I'm sure by my cheerful tone, then she frowned, confused. The final expression was a crooked smile.

"Oh really?" she challenged.

"If they can make penicillin out of mouldy bread," I stood behind her and pushed one of her feet to the side with my own. Then I put my hand on hers and brought it to her hip. My other hand went up her front and lifted her chin, then brought her hair out from behind her ear, "Then I can make a model out of you."

"Make me fabulous," she flipped her hair.

I had learned to do plenty during my wandering around the country. Flying below the radar meant I had to learn a trade. Moving every few months meant I had to learn a few trades. Ever so often I reinvented myself.

"We're getting you a tan today?" I brushed her shoulder. Her skin was beautiful. It was smooth, like silk, fair, like fresh milk but it was missing glow.

"We're starting today?" she turned and looked at me.

"All your skin needs is a little glow," I turned her back towards the mirror, "We get you a tan today. It will look wrong on you but by the time the runway rolls around," I studied her unblemished skin, "It will have faded to the perfect glow."

"What else?" she asked. I had expected more doubt, more resistance.

"Nothing else," I met her eyes in the mirror, "Your hair has the perfect volume, your delicate curvature is ideal for modelling and I can't make you grow."

"I'll probably be wearing ridiculous heels," she shrugged. Isabella had trouble responding to complements.

"And you're already beautiful so don't let them cover you up with mountains of make up," I said. It wasn't just to boost her mood. Isabella was truly beautiful, "But we'll have to do something about those marks on your back."

"I have it covered," she laughed at the pun.

"Do you now?" I stared her down, or tried to.

"Literally," she smiled in the face of my effort, "Here," she handed me a container.

"This is for dead people," I said after I studied the bottle. It was meant for reconstruction.

"I know," she redirected my thoughts. The scars on her back were groves. She was actually going to fill them out with it, "I should know," she smiled, "I'm one of them."

I didn't comment on her previous statement. "We should do it before the tan then," I opened the container. I applied the reforming agent, or whatever it was called, to her back. "Are you ever going to tell me what these are or where you got them?"

"They're tattoos," she lied, "Primitive tattoos," she educated me, "My captor lent me out to eight of his friends. Each of them had to earn their stripe by emotionally damaging me through sexual abuse. Did you really want to know that?"

"No," I answered with tears in my eyes.

"Don't cry," she wrapped her arm around my shoulder, "My tear ducts aren't above following suit and Maria if you make me cry, things will break," she dug her fingers into my flesh till she hit bone.

"I will put this shit on your back when the time comes," I promised, not because I didn't want her to not kill me or worse but because I wanted to help her heal. I knew she probably wouldn't but I believe in miracles.

"Good times," she said as she walked to the bathroom to shower.

"You're seriously doing this?" I asked even though I knew she would. Charles loved Isabella. Isabella loved Charles. But Charles was married to Kindle and today was their wedding party. Trying to convince her not to go was like playing chicken with a train. There wasn't any way you could win.

"I am seriously doing this," she gave me a dashing smile, "You go ahead. I need to pick up my date."

"Date?" I didn't know she was bringing anyone.

"You didn't really think I was going to show up to my ex-husband's wedding party stagged, did you?" she knitted her brows.

"I shouldn't have," I walked out of the hotel room. It was ridiculously expensive but she was part owner, along with Charles, so we got to stay for free.

"And don't come back here tonight," she said as I walked out, "Tell Dr McNair that I'm clean and sober and I won't be dead when you get back in the morning."

"I was thinking we could go out tonight," I leaned against the door frame. Even the wood in this place felt like silk.

"I'm staying in and I'm banning you from the building," she smiled, "I'll be okay," she shooed me. And she would be. I'm not accounting for her methods though.

**APV**

"Stop it," I passed in front of Charles, "Look away."

"How old is that punk? Twenty?" he looked away from Isabella and her date.

"Twenty eight," I informed him, "He's also black and a fireman, while we're on the subject of stating random facts that have nothing to do why she brought him."

"I've been replaced with a guy who runs into burning buildings to save babies," he hung his head.

"Chin up and smile," I said next to his ear, "Here comes the blushing bride... And the resentful ex-wife."

"Hey you," Kindle planted a kiss on Charles. One that was too long and involved to be socially acceptable and clearly meant to convey ownership. It was the first pissing contest of many. Charles put his arm around Kindle's waist and turned to greet the couple.

"Charles, Kindle, congratulations," Isabella smiled.

"Thank you," they smiled.

"Aaron," she stood on her toes and kissed my cheek, "I'd like you all to meet Washington."

"You share your name with a state," Charles' jealousy reared its head. I laughed to make it seem like a joke.

"I've got two words for you," Washington laughed, "Charles Manson."

"Touche," Charles ceded.

"Your ring is gorgeous," Isabella complemented.

"Thank you," Kindle smiled, "It was his mother's," she rubbed Charles shoulder. I saw Isabella swallow. Passive aggression was just as damaging as the regular kind.

"I'm glad to hear that you're on good terms with your father again," Isabella sounded awfully Zen. It was horrifying.

"Thank you," Charles said awkwardly.

"Let's not hog the bride and groom," Isabella put her arm through Washington's. In my objective opinion, that name really wasn't practical. "And Kindle," she looked around, "Everything is so beautiful," she got scarier, "And your ring is huge," she touched the ring around her neck, "Like your ass in that dress."

She walked away, leaving us staring after her. She was wearing dangerously high heels and a short pink dress, a colour I had never seen on her, but what really had my attention was the fact that it was backless. Her skin was exposed almost to the crack of her ass and I couldn't see a single mark on it.

"There's the Isabella we know and love," Kindle was the first to look away, "Our guests are waiting," she tugged at his arm, "And Aaron's twelve year old just arrived," she gestured with her head. I didn't quite catch her next sentence because Maria walked into my line of sight. Her beauty wasn't something I could ever get used to.

She greeted me with a kiss. "You have a thing for public displays," I spoke against her lips.

"No," she pressed her lips to mine again, "I just have a thing for you. Now what did I miss?"

"She was actually very nice," I led her to our seats.

"Dear God, what is she plotting?" I could hear the warning bells go off in her head.

"You really want to find that out today?" I asked.

"No," she shook her head, "No I do not."

**BPV**

"I'll be right back," I stood up then bent over to kiss Washington's lips. He ran his hand up the back of my thigh. This is why I wanted him as a date. The man was never appropriate. Charles was on his way to the bathroom. I adjusted my dress to show my thong when I was out of sight. It was tacky but men ate that shit up.

"Now," I said as I walked by the usher. She was to wait five minutes after the door closed then accidentally spill water on the blushing bride's hair. Not enough for her to need to change, just enough for her to want to blow dry her hair. I also specified that it be water and not anything that would stain. I wanted her to have no excuse for leaving.

"Charles," I ran up to him, "Are you okay?"

"Stressful day," he stopped and turned.

"Smiling and conversing with people you can't really remember can do that to you," I conveyed sympathy.

"Why aren't you killing me?" he asked.

"My pride won't let me," I answered, "Besides," I pushed the door open by backing into it and walking backwards, "I have something far more interesting in mind."

"Iz," he wanted me. I could hear it in his voice but I could also hear the effort of restraint.

"I've never known you to let a hard on go to waste," I slipped the straps off and let the top half of my dress slide down. His eyes went to my breasts. Just watching his chest rise and fall made my girl parts tingle.

He lifted me into the bathroom and put me on the long stretch of unnecessary shelving next to the sink. "Oh God," slipped from his lips as his arms tightened around me with such force that for a second I couldn't breathe but I didn't care. Every other part of me was alive. "Izzy," he put his hands under my ass and pushed my dress up my legs to expose me.

I put my fingers between us and started undoing his buttons. It was not necessary but I wanted to feel the heat of his skin on mine. "Why are you wearing this stupid thing?" I fought with the bow tie.

"Why did you bring Tommy Gavin?" he asked while he undid his bow tie, between kisses.

"I thought he and nurse Betty would make a fine couple," I bit his neck, unbuckling his belt.

"Don't get cute with me," he pushed me onto my back and kept a firm hand on the underside of my breast.

"Or what?" I rolled my nipple with one hand and the other journeyed into the confines of my underwear.

"Fuck," he dropped his pants. I moaned when he revealed his big, beautiful cock. I anchored myself by curling my legs around his waist.

"I've missed you," I slid my panties to the side. There was just no way I could stop to take off my knickers right now.

"I've missed you too," he paused before entering me.

"Not you," I tightened my legs, pushing him into me. He removed my legs from around his waist, pushing one down to the back of his knee and the other he pushed onto my stomach. He thrust into me, almost angrily.

"Yes," this was it, the added bonus that came with payback. I writhed and moaned as he drilled me harder an oil field in Texas. I heard my name come from his mouth, felt his hands on my flesh and him inside me but it wasn't enough. So I did what I always do when it's not enough. I closed my eyes and imagined a different set of circumstances, happier circumstances. I opened my eyes when he kissed me.

"Izzy," he said it like he was confessing a secret.

"Charles," I lost myself in him, "Don't stop," my hand snaked into his hair of its own accord. He didn't tear his eyes away from mine as he moved inside me with gentler strokes. The friction to the parts of my anatomy he was in contact with was so amazing I was useless with pleasure. Just as I felt the tightening in my lower abdomen Kindle came cursing through the door.

"Oh shit," Charles looked back and forth between the two of us.

"You could have let me finish," I sat up, pushing Charles out of me.

"Kindle," he pulled his pants up.

"If you tell me you can explain I will cut your tongue out," she hissed angrily at him.

"That's my cue," I fixed my undies and put my dress back in its last place.

"You deplorable..." she couldn't find a bad enough word.

"That look makes it all worth it," I smiled at her. She walked up to me with admirable determination. Charles trapped her in his strong arms.

"Let me go," she struggled against him.

"I can't," Charles carried her across the room, as far away from me as possible.

"He doesn't want me to hurt you," I washed my hands, "I beat up a guy about his size with a spirit leveller so I must admit he has a valid point," I shook the water off my hands, "However," I grabbed a paper towel, "If you hadn't just walked in on us he would have fucked you tonight with my DNA still attached," I finished wiping my hands, "Correct me if I'm wrong... an STD is a little worse than a black eye."

"Get out," she hissed.

"Sure," I fixed my hair, "One more thing," I looked back, "Hep B," I told him, "They warn you about the dangers of sharing needles but they don't say dick about what you put up your nose," I laughed as I walked out. They had enough to fight about to till Armaggedon.

"You conniving bitch," Maria was standing with her arms folded next to the door.

"That's Miss Conniving Bitch to you," I laughed as I walked past her.

"Calling it even?" she followed me. I laughed louder. I'd barely scratched the tip of the iceberg.


	31. Chapter 31

**BPV**

I really was going to stay in tonight. I thought I would feel better after I made them miseble on their wedding day but I felt worse. Everywhere I looked there were happy couples. Even cable was conspiring against me. I could have breakfast at any time of day. And I don't mean just because I was staying in a hotel where all the staff members sucked up to me. Experiences ruined things for me. Edward ruined music. Cain ruined food. Bacon and eggs were the only things I could eat and be... not miserable. Charles ruined that.

I walked into the shower fully clothed, turned it up to scalding then sat down under it. When I came out I was red. I turned the lights out when the mirror had told me enough times how crazy I was then I lay down in the empty cold bath after stripping down to my birthday suit. Sitting in the dark thinking about my life was making me want to slash my wrists. I grabbed a towel and dried of next to the phone.

"What?" Anthony answered his phone.

"You're in a fun mood," I spoke as I dressed.

"Mom?" it was strange to hear surprise in his voice.

"How have you been?" I asked. He must be so different now. I hadn't seen him in almost three months and they changed so fast.

"You really want to ask me that?" he turned quickly to anger.

"Yes," I answered honestly.

"You haven't heard," he couldn't believe it, "I don't know whether you're oblivious or you just don't care."

"I'm oblivious," I felt it necessary to answer.

"You don't try hard enough," he hissed.

"Hey," I fought against the tremble in my voice, "You're in pain and I have no idea why so you have every right to say I failed but I do everything in my power, including disappearing for two months, to make sure that the poison that made it's way into my life doesn't spill over into yours. Don't you dare tell me I don't try hard enough."

"You know what? Fuck you," he cut the line. That went about as well as expected. It hurt more than I thought it would. I dialled again.

"Mom," Eli answered.

"Hey champ," I felt my mood lift a little.

"I know you try," he was always the understanding one, "Anthony does too."

"What is torturing him?" I asked even though I was afraid of the answer.

"His girlfriend just got discharged to hospice," he said after a gush of wind came over the line. I inhaled sharply. My tear ducts weren't giving an inch.

"When they say you can't protect your children from everything," I wished I could spare him this.

"They mean fucked up things like dying seventeen year old girlfriends," he finished for me.

"Look out for him," I knew my presence wouldn't help.

"You should come by," he suggested.

"I will," I promised, "But not tonight."

"How are you holding up?" he asked.

"Would you believe me if I said I was okay?" I answered with my own question.

"Yes," he answered, "But not tonight."

"I love you guys," I hadn't told them that in a long time, and my actions hadn't reflected it.

"Lay off the tequila," was his response.

"Eli," I chided playfully.

"I'm actually serious," he responded, "Later tonight, when all the colour is drained from the world again," he described it perfectly, "Lay off the tequila. Don't do drugs, not even a joint," I got a guidance class from my teen son, "If it goes completely black, no more than two bottles of wine. And we love you too. Even when you can't see it."

"Go be with your brother," I instructed, "And sit in the hall. You know how cruel he can get when he's angry about things beyond his control."

"Genetics are a bitch," Eli found the second of humour in the day, "And I can take it. So can Dad, surprisingly, so can Kindle."

"Great," there wasn't anything else I could say without spilling my bitterness into the phone. I wasn't as convincing as I thought.

"You'll always be my number one girl," it felt good to hear him say it.

"Goodnight," I decided to quit while I was ahead.

"Night," I could hear the smile in his voice. It didn't take long for the smile to fade from my lips. The colour went out of the world with the fading voice of my son. His advice stayed with me though. And I at least tried to follow it.

I dressed for comfort rather than style. The fact that I threw on a pair of jeans and a shirt without even bothering with heels meant I couldn't go drinking in this place without sticking out like a poly-blend thumb. I'd shopped for the more demanding life style. Slumming it wasn't on the agenda for the night. I just wanted to go back to being middle class.

I didn't camp out at the bar tonight. I bought a glass of wine and sat at a table. The 'Fuck off' sign got its volume turned down to 'If you dare' so soon enough some chap came to sit down next to me, but not before he tripped and spilled red wine on my baby blue jeans. Then he rambled out an apology as he further stained my clothing by trying to wipe it. This caused him to spilled the drink in his other hand.

"Stop," I laughed at the picture of my former self. I guess clumsiness really is endearing.

"I was trying to get you to notice me," he had to wipe himself too now, "Without getting on your bad side."

"You're going with the assumption that I have a good side," I took a sip of wine. He was young, twenty four at the most. His hair was platinum blond and his eyes were a shade of blue I refused to recognise. Usually you can look at a man and know his basic outline, by the way he carries himself, the clothes he chooses, his watch, what he has in his pockets. More often than you'd think, you can tell by their physical appearance. But every once in a while, even I don't see someone coming.

"You haven't killed me yet," he sat down next to me with a dazzling smile.

"Not yet," I lifted my glass to him.

"Here's to hoping," he raised his glass. It was after the second sip that I noticed.

"What the fuck did you put in my drink?" I asked as the hand that rested on my leg slipped off it. Dizziness and exhaustion were encroaching and fast.

"Maybe you've had one too many," he slipped his arm around me. I pulled my phone from my pocket but I felt so disconnected to my body I knew I wouldn't be able to dial.

"I know when I've been drugged," I said as the phone slipped from my hand. My head felt heavy. The sound of the music and the conversation blurred into one until it sounded like a resounding echo. I saw the world around me like it was far away. The remaining lucid part of my brain brought forth my last resort, a protective measure Charles had thought necessary. I'd told him it was no different from speed dial. It's selling point was that instead of a call, which would be useless to me due to difficulty talking, it sent a message with my coordinates to emergency contacts. I closed my eyes and pressed the button, having no idea who would come because I never bothered to give a fuck about something I was sure I would never use.

**CPV**

"I have to go," I whispered to Kindle.

"In the middle of a family crisis?" her eyes looked like they would pop out of her skull.

"We're still in the region of family crisis," I showed her my phone, "Izzy sent a CQD."

"You cannot be serious," she dragged me by the arm, "Neither can she. I've seen alley cats that make better mothers but even she should know better than to call you away tonight."

"_She is in trouble,"_ I'd gotten used to Kindle's comments about Isabella, to understand them even, "I know this because she is incapable of asking for help and she does know better."

"Send Aaron," she wasn't asking, "His car is faster and it has GPS. You decided to take a cab. And he's more useful in a fight."

"Aaron," I didn't want to waste time arguing and besides, she had a point.

"On it," he was already at the door.

**APV**

"You're not coming," I pushed Maria back.

"I have lived with this woman," she put her hands in the way, knowing I wouldn't slam the door on them, "You have a better chance of finding her if I come."

"Fine," I opened the door, "I'll take my chances," I pushed her back into the room and slammed the door. I didn't have the key so she would be right behind me but I would beat her to the Porsche. She stood in the road. I watched her in the rear view. I didn't know what shit storm I was walking into and I sure as hell wasn't taking Maria into it.

I'm sure I broke a few land speed records. How I saw Isabella was a complete fluke. She slipped from the arm of her captor and almost fell to the ground. Her ring caught the light, and my attention. She looked like she was about to pass out. I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt because the man she loved got married today but it wasn't just today that she got this inebriated. "Hey," I ran up and helped her to her feet, "She's with me."

"I know," was the last thing I heard before a sharp sting to the neck and the world going black.

"Mother fucker," I woke up with a headache. I tried to get up but I couldn't. My limbs felt heavy and I'm pretty sure one of my hands were tied up. I still couldn't remember what Maria and I got up to last night. "Could you turn on the lights please?"

"I can't," Isabella answered,, "And neither can you. We're tied to each other and tied down."

I tested the restraints. "Stop it," she hissed, "It's made out of plastic and it CUTS ME every time you YANK IT!" I may have yanked a few more times.

"Who did you piss off?" I asked

"Are you looking for a real answer to that?" she asked.

"Not right now," I shook my head. She'd pissed off a lot of people on her drunken, stoned rampages. That made me sure we were on a table, a very cold table. She seemed perfectly calm and still, "We have to get free before someone comes here," I tried to rouse her.

"We can't," she was cavalier but I believed her.

"Do we just wait?" I rolled to face her. It was a silly thing to do in darkness.

"Yep," she turned to face me. "My last wait lasted four days so I need you to get off my arm."

"We just sit here in the dark?" I couldn't understand what kicks a person could get by leaving you alone in the dark but I complied.

"We just sit here in the dark," she changed my question into a statement, "We starve, we thirst, we'll be sore from lying on these stainless steel tables and, as an added bonus, I am tied to you."

It didn't sound like she was being sarcastic at the end there. Her leg circled mine, her arm pulled me closer. She was on me like white on rice, kissing me. "Are you insane?" I tried to push her back.

"Kiss me," she held me tighter.

"I'm not playing," I decided to let go of her altogether. I didn't need this.

"I'm getting their attention," she nibbled my ear, "And saving your life. Now turn up the volume."

"Oh fuck," not only would Charles flip out Maria would flip out too. Now my life is perfect.

"Louder," she took it the wrong way, or thought it would be funny to misconstrue my exclamation. I grunted and made all the appropriate sounds without the usual accompanying actions. She pulled the hair at the base of my neck so harshly I let out a cry of pain. "Don't fuck around this needs to be real."

So I kissed her. I put my hand on her leg and dragged it up slowly. She somehow maneuvered her hand into my pants. This was crossing a line. "Isabella," I warned her without making sudden movements.

"They're watching," she said in a voice so faint, so breathy, I almost missed it. This must be big brother on steroids. She knitted our fingers and turned our hands a hundred and eighty degrees.

"Fuck," I cried out in pain.

"Big baby," she got on top of me. A feat I'd dismissed as impossible. She moved back and forth across my loin creating very real friction. I closed my eyes and tried to shut out the fact that this was on the far side of wrong. She undid her buttons, then mine. She slowed down, kissing my chest, running her hands all over my body.

"Time out," the door swung open, letting in a stream of light.

"Just as this was getting good," she climbed off me and sat semi-upright. The lights were turned on, bright lights.

"Let the games begin," I saw a platinum blond boy say when my vision had cleared.

"Don't hold back," Isabella insisted on aggravating our captors.

"Didn't plan to," he walked around the table I was laying on, "So this is the man I've heard so much about."

"That would be Charles," I was sure, "I'm Aaron."

"Dr Aaron Bartholomew McNair," he seemed to know me.

"If one more person punches me because they think I slept with you I swear to God," I gritted my teeth. This was fucked up.

"I like him," Blondie spoke to Isabella, "Maybe he should join us."

"He's too nice," she touched my nose with her free hand, "Too fucking self righteous. Also he lacks the palate and the capacity for cruelty."

"You don't suffer from any of these afflictions," he rounded to her, "Will you join us?"

"I don't play well with others," she crossed her legs. Even in this position she was cool.

"Okay then," he punched her in the gut. Her head and legs went up, the air left her lungs but she didn't make a sound other than that one. She held my hand with crushing force and kept a near perfect poker face. I knew Isabella had suffered as much as any soldier can brag about but seeing her take a hit like that then lean back and smile was illuminating.

"Was that as good for you as it was for me?" she smirked at him.

"Better," he brushed her stomach, appreciating his work.

"What's your name?" she asked with a less smug tone of voice, "Your real name."

"Callum," he sat on her hip. The only indicator that she was in pain was the slight tightening of her hand around mine.

"He's your father, isn't he?" she asked. You could have sworn she was talking to an old friend.

"What makes you think that?" he looked into her eyes.

"Your eyes. You have his eyes," she turned her head like she was studying them, "And you think like him. Only he would know the answers to those questions without them."

"Sounds like you admire him," I mumbled.

"I admired his genius," she turned to me, "But not as much as I despised his malice," she turned back to Callum.

"He left you a parting gift," the boy announced.

"I'm ready," she replied.

"One more thing," he stood with his hands in his pockets. He waited till she she looking at him then he grabbed the nether regions of her anatomy. I couldn't see which part exactly because I was on my back and his arm was in the way. Whatever he did to her was painful enough to make her lose the poker face and draw her breath between clenched teeth. "That's for my sister," he got in her face.

She let out a cry of pain as she moved with such blinding speed that I blinked and she had him pressed painfully to my chest with her free hand around his throat. "You don't get to bring her up to me," she hissed in his ear, "And you sure as hell don't get to be angry that she's dead."

Two men came and separated them. "A flood is coming," Callum fixed his collar.

"That doesn't sound good," it was my turn to squeeze Isabella's hand.

"It isn't," she squeezed back. It really wasn't.

**AN: I write this story for selfish reasons but since I've acquired so many favourites and alerts I have a few other people to please so I need you guys to review. I need to know what you like, what you don't and whatever else you feel. You have my permission to be rude or mean or soppy if you like that kind of thing. Just do not be silent. **


	32. Chapter 32

"You're on my hair," Isabella hissed angrily.

"I have a black eye and, I'm pretty sure, a concussion. My shoulder is throbbing. I've been swimming since before I could walk but I can officially say I have a pretty clear understanding of drowning. Ironically, on dry land. You were too God damn stubborn to cry uncle so you passed out fourteen times and each time your chair was kicked to the floor with you in it," I relived the day's horrors in my rant, "You just got slammed into the wall, strangled, dragged across the room and slammed onto a steel table. Of all the things you could bitch about at this moment, you choose the fact that I'm on your hair."

"I'm famous for being stubborn to the point of self-destruction," she said in a low, calm voice, "Changing that behaviour right now would be red flag. The man who dislocated your shoulder just to pop it back in slipped a knife into your back left pocket . He had to make sure you would stay off your left side so you wouldn't give the knife away. He strangled me because he had to keep me pressed up against the wall long enough to slip a gun into the front of my pants. If I turn my head towards you by even a single degree more the butt of the gun under my shirt will make an unscheduled appearance. So yes, my only complaint is that _you're on my hair_."

"Sorry," I moved, "You didn't tell me that."

"Stay still," she said when I moved my hand to my pocket, "I'll say when."

"How did you get mixed up with these people?" I asked her.

"Stay quiet," she closed her eyes.

"You can't have both," the knife in my pocket was making me twitchy.

She sighed. "I went to sleep in a hotel in Seattle and woke up in a place much like this. But that was a different generation, smarter than this one, more careful. The walls were a different colour, there were more cameras, they were better hidden and everything was nailed to the floor. Its called 'The Dynasty'. One man at the top, no more than ten under him, the rest are... henchmen, faithful. Succession is by blood, education is by abuse, leaving is not an option, open your mouth and get your tongue cut out."

"Mother fuck," this was one fucked up legacy.

"There is one thing in our favour," I heard the dark smile in her voice, Callum is arrogant enough to think he can watch me with two cameras and break me in two days." The door opened silently.

"What are you two whispering about?" Callum came in.

"Sweet nothings," I answered. Isabella laughed. "When," she whispered. I didn't think she literally meant she would say when. I pulled the knife out of my pocket and dropped it into my other hand.

"You're going to Hell because you're a liar," he said in a sing song voice. I rotated the knife and started cutting the plastic restraint.

"I'm going to Hell for a lot of reasons, lying is pretty far down the list," she responded. He went around the table, starting at her feet, going clockwise. I tried to cut with as little movement as possible. My hand was under my leg. If I moved my hand half an inch in the wrong direction I would scrape the table and get us caught or I would cut myself and get us caught, if I took too long we would certainly get caught. "Do you know what your sin is?" she asked him.

"It's my father's sin," he brushed her face, "It's you."

In the next second the plastic released us and the blade pierced the skin at my wrist. His fingers curled around her slender neck, "Put that knife down or I'll snap her little neck," he turned his face to me. Isabella answered by putting the muzzle of the gun under his chin.

"Open the door," she instructed coolly.

"You can't think you'll make it," he started standing. She pulled a gun from his waist and threw it to me without turning.

"There's a reason your father didn't believe in guns," she pushed him towards the door, "They shift too quickly the balance of power. Keys," she pointed from him to the door with the gun.

"No," he looked at her with a smile.

"I can get them from your carcass," she shot him without further warning. He let out a cry of both surprise and pain as he fell to the floor.

"You shot him," I couldn't believe she'd actually shot him.

"Speak louder," she said as she riffled through his pockets, "My ears are ringing."

"You shot me," it seemed he couldn't believe it either, "You shot me."

"I don't bluff," she found them, "And you should know better than to use a door that opens from the inside."

"Stand next to the door," she directed with the gun, making me eve n more uncomfortable. She unlocked the door. Everything moved fast but the adrenaline helped me catch it all. The first man walked in and got shot in the temple. I was a doctor and a member of the NRA so I knew quite a bit about guns and the damage they could do but I'd never been this close to the impact before. "What I wouldn't do for a silencer," she picked up the bloody gun, rubbing her ear against her shoulder.

"I'm not taking that," I shook my head.

"Now is not the time," she took the knife out of my hand and gave me a clean gun, "Have you ever killed anyone?" she asked.

"No," I didn't think she was talking about people who died on an operating table and without premeditation.

"Okay," she gave me back the knife and pointed to the upper wall, "Stand in the middle of the room and look to your left then to your right. Those things that look like tiny vents in the upper wall. Get them out and do it fast. Then wait by the door till I come back. Fair warning: those are gas pipes," she pointed, "And in a minute I'm going to flood this room with it so I hope those hands are as fast and steady as advertised."

"No pressure," I mumbled when she slunk out of the room like James Bond. My usually bone dry palms were sweating but they were steady. Just when I thought the damn thing was welded into the wall, it came off. I fell twice on the way to the opposite wall, once over because I slipped on blood, and for the first time in my life it occurred to me that stress could intoduce me to my maker. I wiped my hands and the unfamiliarly thick handle of the knife and got back to work, jumping every time I heard a shot fired.

"Hold it right there," a voice said as I got the second little vent off. A colourless gas blew into my face. The unmistakable sound of a revolver told me that I should have paid more attention to my surroundings.

"If you shoot me, you'll roast us both alive," I said without turning around.

"She's going to burn this place to the ground anyway," he responded, "Or rather blow it sky high."

I closed my eyes and visualised my target. I flipped the blade over in my hands and took a deep breath. I turned and threw the knife. My eyes remained closed as I waited to be shot. When the deafening sound didn't come I opened my eyes. The bile rose in my throat as I saw the blood pour from around the blade.

"There's vomit dripping from your nostrils," Isabella stood in the doorway, "And you didn't kill him," she took off her shirt and wiped my face, "I did," she pulled the knife I'd used out of his arm and wiped it on the shirt.

After wiping the knife and discarding the shirt she grabbed my hand and dragged me behind her through passages that all looked the same and into a lift. "Sit down before you keel over," she breathed with visible effort, "We don't have the best quality oxygen at the moment."

"You smoke too much," I argued even though I was starting to feel faint as well.

"Aaron, if you fall on me I will kick your ass," she lay on her back, "And that's saying a lot, given my current physical state."

"Okay," I slid down.

"Look up," she pointed weakly, "As soon as the cover slides out of the way I need you to get out and run."

She made a strange sound so I turned to look at her. She was trying to pry the doors open with very little success. We stopped and the top moved out of the way. "Let me help you with that," I stuck my fingers into the small gap tried to force the doors apart until I was breathing fumes and my lungs pumped battery acid.

"Go," she pulled my shoulder back. I felt like my hands would fall off as I pulled myself out.

"Come on," I offered her my hand. She took it and practically ran up the side of the lift. Score one for twenty dollar sneakers.

"Run," she led by example. I was reminded, oddly, of medical school. Of a time in my life when I had to use the most willpower. Then she did something completely random. She stopped and lit a cigarette.

"Are you insane?" I stopped and put my hands on my knees, huffing.

"A little bit," she lit up, "But this has nothing to do with that. Now get down," she threw the cigarette in the direction of the hole. I looked back to see where it landed. She tripped me just in time. I closed my eyes and didn't know we had moved till she helped me to my feet and touched the grass burn on my shoulder. "What part of 'get down' did you not understand?" she looked genuinely pissed for the first time.

"That shot was a Hail Mary," I was expecting her to miss, "And you used a fucking cigarette."

"This lighter stops burning when you take your hand off the gas," she clicked it and let go to illustrate, "Smoking just saved our lives. Ironic, yes?"

"Where the fuck are we?" I just wanted to go home.

"A good two miles from a deserted road, I'm guessing," she started walking.

"Do you, by any chance, know which state we're in?" I asked her.

"I'm missing certain information due to the fact that I was drugged and kidnapped now shut up before I regret saving your life and shoot you," she trudged on.

"Saved my life? You're the reason I was in this fucking mess in the first place," I walked faster to keep up with her.

"Thank you," she surprised me, "For coming for me, thank you."

"I'd say you're welcome but you'd know I was lying," this was an experience I could have done without.

"Shut up and walk," she upped her pace. We walked in silence for what must have been five miles then we came to a road, the kind you find mostly in horror movies.

"What time do you think it is?" I asked as we stopped on the side of the road. It was dark but I couldn't tell whether it was closer to sunset or dawn.

"We're on a deserted road in the middle of nowhere," she answered, "It doesn't matter what time it is. It only matters that it's dark. We'd be lucky to get robbed."

I looked down at myself, then I looked at her. "How did you come out of this unscathed?"

"I wouldn't say unscathed," she held up her bloody hand up.

"I'm the one with the shiner," I pointed, "And I swear you can see your reflection on my shoulder." Goodbye epidermis.

"I could be bleeding internally and dying," she raised a valid point, "But I would be grateful if I could do it on a warm bed."

"How can you be so indifferent?" I wanted to know.

"I have seen the light," she smiled.

"Oh really?" I wasn't buying it.

"Yeah," she nodded, "Look behind you." I turned around and saw the literal light.

"What are you doing?" I asked as she stepped into the middle of the road.

"Get over here," she beckoned harshly.

"That is the middle of the road," I pointed.

"Much better than the middle of the train tracks, believe me," she wouldn't be discouraged. I went to stand next to her, with her stature and a black vest she was not likely to be seen till it was too late. My vest was white, blood notwithstanding. My pants were grey and that was the first time I thought about my jacket since waking up without it.

"Get the hell out of the road," an old, monster of a truck stopped a few feet from us, "Crazy fucks!"

Isabella explored a talent she had never exercised this well before. She kept silent. She wasn't even staring them down. Just looking, the way a curious child looks at a strange new toy.

"Are you fucking deaf?" the driver honked.

"We need a ride," I tried.

"Whatever you're mixed up in, we want none of it," he answered. Can't say I blame him.

"Please sir," I begged, "We need a ride."

"That's it," both of them got out of the car. I didn't want to hijack anyone but I'd be damned if I let one more person inflict pain on me tonight. Only I didn't have a gun. The only thing I had was a knife and not a big one at that. I looked over at Isabella, who looked annoyed more than anything else.

"Pretty please," she raised the gun.

"How about you put that gun down sweetheart?" the driver drew a weapon, as did the passenger.

"How does that help me?" she tilted her head at the driver.

"It helps you not to die," the passenger answered.

"What makes you think I'm afraid of dying?" she tilted her head towards him. They were both at a loss. "Brooklyn, New York," she put the gun in her waist. We men looked back and forth at each other.

"I'm with her," I tried to be as blasé as she appeared. After a brief struggle with the side of the truck I fell onto a rough sack. "You've got ice in your veins," I commented. She was lying there looking up at the sky. If I didn't know it, I would think she was laying in a hammock on a hot day.

"I know," she nodded.

"What are you smiling about?" I asked.

"There's no one left," she answered. Which reminded me.

"What about the guy who helped us?" I asked.

"He smoked the shittiest brand of cigarettes," she lit up, "And I shot him in the head to spare him the agony of burning alive."

"But he helped us," I sat up.

"That doesn't change what he is," she pulled me back down.

"Doesn't helping us show that he's changed?" I pushed her hand off me but stayed down.

"He was an active member of the meanest group of murdering, raping sons of bitches," she lay on her side, "Would you want him bumping into Maria on the street?" she raised an eyebrow at me. She had me there. I didn't want low lives of that description anywhere near Maria or women in general but there but there was something about taking a life, even one undeserved, that went against the grain. That Isabella thought nothing of it bothered me.

"Are we going to see more of you now?" I changed the subject.

"After the police get tired of trying to nail my slippery ass, you'll get so sick of me," she smiled.

"I thought the fact that you're a suspect would be all over the media," I mumbled.

"They don't even have enough to take me in for question," she blew it off, "The only reason they looked twice at me is that some cop is smarter than his resources. Unfortunately for him, it's all about what you can prove. Besides, I own the damn newspaper."

"I see Charles has rubbed off on you," I laughed. For the first time tonight she looked hurt.

"Is he happy?" she asked looking at the sky. I wanted to tell her the truth, all of it. I guess I really did have a concussion.

"You spat in the face of his ceremony, we've been missing for, what? Two days? Anthony's girlfriend is dying and I feel like I'm going to vomit. Nobody's happy," I managed to avoid telling the truth without actually telling a lie.

"Life's hard all around," she sighed.

"Thank you," I put my hand on her shoulder. She'd just saved my life, even if she did land me in this mess. She laughed, and she laughed, and she laughed. "It's not that funny," she seemed hysterical, "Should I slap you?" She shook her head, laughing too hard to even speak.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, "It's just... They're dead. All of them are dead."

I tried to calm her by stroking her hair. It worked for most people. Of course Isabella swatted my hand away. "I feel empty," she smiled a bleak little smile. I didn't know what to say so I kept stroking her hair.

"Who was the girl?" I tried a different topic, not necessarily a wiser one, "His sister."

"She was my daughter," she closed her eyes, "Cain was her father. She was his spitting image. It's a strange feeling to love someone who looks so much like a person you hate."

"What happened to her?" I asked fearfully.

"I killed her," she opened her eyes, "When she was three months old I drowned her in the bath. He was molesting her. She couldn't even sit up on her own and he saw her as prey."

"I'm so sorry," I wrapped my arm around her, "That must have been very hard for you."

"The hardest part came later," her eyes were glassy, "When I started to wonder if I really did it to save her. If I didn't do it to be free of her. Because I didn't want her and he never let me forget it."

"No wonder you're so..." my mouth ran away from me.

"Fucked up," she finished. "I know," she nodded, "I thought I'd feel better once it was all over but without my hate all I have is guilt."

"You deserve good things," I tried to convince her.

"Shut up Aaron," she closed her eyes, "I can't sleep when you flap your gums."

I listened to her breathing slow until she took me with her to the land of sleep. I woke up in a warehouse. Isabella was smoking and sharing jokes with the people she'd been pointing a gun at just a few hours ago. It was still dark outside. "Let's go Ginger," she yelled when she saw me, "Gentlemen, it's been fun," she walked backwards as I jumped out of the truck and fell, "Get this boy some grub," she said to her new friends. After eating enough saturated fats to clog a grease trap we went on our merry way.

"Have you called anyone?" I asked as I enjoyed the comfort of the stuffed seats of the cab.

"Charles knows we're going to the ER," she answered, "I told him you had a black eye and the usual stick up your ass."

I just leaned back and laughed. How would I explain this one? Patients do not trust doctors who look like members of Fight Club. Charles and Kindle were waiting for us when we got there. My residents whispered as I walked by. "Aaron," Maria ran in and jumped into my arms. I put my nose at the base of her neck and inhaled. There were whistles and applause. An icepack was placed on my shoulder by one of my ass kissing interns as soon as Maria's feet were on the ground. "Thank God you're safe," she kissed me. When enough throats had been cleared she released me.

"She needs a CT," I pointed to where Isabella was standing. She wasn't there. I turned to see something not completely unexpected. Charles had his face buried in Isabella's hair. Kindle had turned away from the embrace.

"I'll take her," Charles volunteered.

"There are interns for that," Kindle moved to stand next to her husband.

"She scares us," Big mouth Shaughnessy was the first to say it out loud. Isabella may have quit her job here but her reign of terror was legendary.

"I'm going to the pharmacy," I took Maria's hand and led her away. I'd had enough pain and suffering this week.

**CPV**

"This is a waste of time," Isabella said for the hundredth time, "Especially for those people who need to be in these stupid machines."

"Go take a shower," I helped her out of the last stupid machine, "I'll get you some clothes and something to eat. Shaughnessy will take you to the locker room and stand outside the door with a shotgun."

"I'm gonna to eat him alive," she smirked. He nodded and led her out.

"You're sending Shaughnessy?" a technician was shocked enough let go of his tongue.

"I know he's trouble," I nodded, "That's why he has the most hope of keeping up with her. And he knows this hospital would be covered with little orange bits of him if he screwed this up." I walked out of the door. I went out and bought Isabella some fresh clothes and food. It all turned out to be for nought. When I got back she was wearing the hideous orange scrubs Shaughnessy had worn all month because of a lost bet and laughing with him over a tray of cafeteria food.

"The films are in," I stood behind them, silencing the entire table and making the rest of the cafeteria whisper.

"Yes sir," he got up.

"Let's go Harp," she hopped onto his back.

"Ungrateful Redneck," he curled his hands around her thighs. I was about to tell him to put her down when Kindle came in.

"There you are," she smiled, "Where have you been?"

"Shopping," I put my arm around her waist, "Thought she'd be hungry," I pointed ahead to the two young people.

"That's sweet of you," she kissed my cheek, "She seems quite taken with him."

"His expiry date is tomorrow," I scoffed.

"Should I interpret that as jealousy?" she tilted her head to see my face.

"No," I tucked her hair behind her ear. I wanted to say something clever but that was hard to do when he moved his hand to cup her ass. This was getting harder to watch and it hadn't been easy to begin with. Kindle followed my eyes.

"Oh to be young," she shook her head at them. Just when I thought I would snap his hands slid off her legs.

"Jesus Christ," he drew my attention to her films.

"I was a bull fighter and a stunt double. Does anyone want to know how I came away with virtually no scars?" she jumped off his back, "Can we get past the shocked silence?" annoyance crept into her tone.

Getting over the shocked silence wasn't something any of us could do. The abdominal CT showed a kidney bleed but the x-rays, they were something else. Both the humeri had once been fractured. There were two screws in her left wrist. The radius in the right arm and two fingers had been broken. There was a metal plate in the femur of her right leg. Both the bones of the lower left leg had been broken at one point or another. Her ribcage was a mess, there were numerous hairlines on her skull. Once upon a time her jaw, eye socket and nose had been broken.

"Abdominal CT showed a kidney bleed," Shaughnessy was all medical and addressing me, "We should keep her for observation and bed rest. The bleed should sort itself out. I'll take a full medical history to rule out-"

"What the fuck?" Aaron alerted us to his presence in the room. Maria was standing silently next to him.

"Take them down," Isabella instructed, "Burn them, shred them, I don't care. I want them gone," she tried to leave. I caught her around the waist and lifted her into my arms. I was expecting resistance but she just put her arms around my neck. I carried her to a private room. "Lie down with me," she didn't let go when I laid her down on the bed. That was an offer I couldn't refuse. We were on our sides, facing each other. "You're looking at me," she communicated something I wasn't sure I understood.

"I feel like you'll disappear if I don't," I put my hand tentatively just below her ribcage.

"You're touching me," she continued.

"I'm sorry," I removed my hand.

"That's not what I meant," she put her hand under her chin.

"What do you mean?" I couldn't resist putting my hand under hers.

"They say ninety percent of what you say doesn't come out of your mouth," she got close to my face. Our noses were almost touching. "You gave her your mother's ring but you don't look at her like you look at me," she breathed into my mouth, "You walked away from me," the pain was evident in her voice, "But you're here when I need you. Do I write you off as confused? Indecisive? Greedy?" she raised her brows at me, "Or is there more to this?" she looked me in the eye. Isabella had always been perceptive.

"Maybe some day," I tried my best to explain without involving her in this conspiracy.

"No," she shook her head infinitesimally, "Today's the day. If you have anything to tell me then today's the day."

"You will always be in my heart," I kissed her forehead. Her response didn't surprise me.

"Goodbye Charles," I knew in that moment that she was letting me go. I kissed her hair and left the room. It felt like my gut was being ripped out. I hoped that one day, when this was all over. I turned around to see her one more time as I closed the door. She turned away from me.

"I love you," I said against the door. I hoped that when it was all out in the open she would forgive me. Long shot but not completely outside the realm of possibility, right?


	33. Chapter 33

**CPV**

"This is a bad idea," Maria said under his breath as the viper pulled up to the house.

"The atomic bomb was a bad idea," Anthony scoffed, "This brunch on the other hand..."

"I know your mother and I haven't always had the easiest relationship," Kindle did the mature parent thing.

"Muhammad Ali and George Foreman didn't have the easiest relationship," Eli snorted.

"Can it," Aaron ordered. He had recently joined Isabella's fan club, along with a few other people. She'd changed remarkably in the past six weeks: moved to the other east side, became nice...er, drank moderately, didn't do drugs and hardly had sex, if at all. She was also in college, which she didn't tell anyone. The nice people who have my name on their library told me she would be a doctor one day. "They're almost here," Aaron continued.

"They?" I had to ask.

"She's bringing her boyfriend," he made it a point not to look at me.

"Date?" I couldn't have heard him correctly.

"Boyfriend," Kindle emphasised, "You're kidding me," I could hear the shock in her voice when Jack Crawford stepped out of the driver's side of _my_ car. The rest of us were stunned into silence. I looked over at Aaron, he shrugged ignorance.

"Good morning," Isabella kissed the boys on the cheeks, "Let's try for more dignified expressions," she kissed Aaron's cheek, "I'm not kissing you," she patted Maria's shoulder.

"Thank you," Maria responded, "I can only take change in small doses. Like you."

"Charles," she gave me the coldest kiss imaginable but it was enough to light a fire under my skin for a brief second. "Kindle," she smiled.

"Don't even think about touching me," Kindle said with a frozen smile.

"Charles,"Crawford shook my hand.

"Jack," I was barely able to unclench my jaw enough to say his name.

"Let's go inside," Eli held Isabella's hand and Kindle's. Anthony led the way and Maria put her arm through Crawford's and led the rat bastard into my house.

"Some warning would have been been nice," I walked in with Aaron.

"I'm as shocked as you are," he kept a neutral, low voice.

"He is your boss," I hissed, "How could you not know?"

"Don't do this," his voice went lower still, "Please. This day's gonna be long enough."

And boy was it a long day.

**APV**

We sat in loud, plate-scraping silence. Isabella was humming tunelessly on my right, reminding me why we usually ate things that came in boxes, cans, napkins and plastic tubs. Maria kept squinting at her plate and shaking her head infinitesimally. She had predicted this was going to be a disaster. Charles was seated opposite Isabella. He couldn't decide whether to stare at her or glare at her boyfriend. Kindle couldn't decide whether to stare at her husband or glare at his ex-wife. Crawford seemed pretty smitten, blindly so. The light had not come back to Anthony's eyes so Eli's mirth was superficial.

"So Iz," Charles smiled but I could see the pain in his eyes, "You and Crawford?"

"For five glorious weeks," Jack answered, stroking Isabella's cheek.

"With the Devil, you once called him," Charles smiled, knitting his brow.

"_I_ was called, and repeatedly, Satan's whore," Isabella pointed out, "We're a perfect match," she laughed as she kissed Jack.

"He has plaque in his arteries," Charles didn't quit.

"Says the man who eats bacon and eggs until I force him to eat something else," Kindle stabbed her vegetables.

"It has nothing to do with anyone's health," I cut in, "Charles is just being passive aggressive about Eli's indiscretion with one of the members of a certain country club," I shot the kid an apologetic look. He nodded.

"Why didn't I hear of this?" Kindle willed Charles to look at her.

"You're not their mother," Isabella said in an annoyingly polite tone.

"This has nothing to do with biology or even the law," Kindle shook her head at Isabella, "If anything, it's about responsibility and that makes me more their mother than you will ever be."

In the blink of an eye Isabella was on her feet. Eli was on his, hands firmly around hers fuming mother's wrists. "Mom," he warned before letting her go.

"You should know better than to speak to me about my children," she said in a tight voice, "And if you don't, you better ask somebody," she sat.

"This is fun," Maria said in a tone that made it clear she meant, 'I told you so'." Then the most unbelievable thing happened.

"Maybe that was an overreaction," Isabella laughed awkwardly, "Okay, it was an overreaction," she surprised us all, "I'm a lioness. I bite when someone comes within ten miles of my cubs."

"Is that an apology?" Kindle was blown away.

"It's the closest thing you're gonna get," Isabella tilted her head.

"See?" Crawford kissed her, "Satan's... mistress can be nice."

"Are we calling mistresses whores?" Kindle's good humour disappeared.

"If you haven't been called a whore at least once in your life, you haven't lived," Maria saved the day.

"Well then Easy," Kindle mocked Charles' nickname for Isabella, "You must have put some life into all your fifteen years."

"Stop it," Crawford ordered.

"You're not my boss here _Jack_," Kindle glared at him.

"How about we trade in brunch for football?" Eli suggested in a forcedly upbeat tone.

"You want to let them tackle each other?" his brother spoke for the first time today. Not his best idea.

"Actually," Kindle got up, "I have a pretty good arm."

"And you went to collage on a football scholarship," Isabella jumped out of her chair and yanked Jack out of his.

"Let's see how football goes," Maria raised an eyebrow at me.

"Yes," I got up and pulled back her chair, "We can also see just how much you love to say I told you so."

"Oh sweety," she pinched my cheek, "I told you so won't even begin to be enough for the coming disaster."

"Disaster?" Eli laughed, "The Piper Alpha Oil Rig was a disaster. This is going to be a sneak preview of Armageddon."

"I'm sitting this one out," Anthony sighed, "Don't," he stepped back when his mother tried to hug him, "If you do that..."

"I know," she touched his cheek, "But come watch, okay?" with a little more emotion than I was used to from her.

"Okay," he kissed the top of her head. They were taller than her now.

"I'll be the ref," Eli volunteered. I don't think it had anything to do with evening the odds as much as it did with being there for his brother without being a pest. Isabella and Charles got to pick the teams. Isabella surprised everyone by picking me first. "Now I know the world is ending," Eli shook his head. Charles had the good sense to pick Kindle. Jack got on our team next. My sweet Maria was picked last. We kicked their asses but Kindle had us all standing with our mouths open when she threw the pig skin forty five yards. I was wrong, football was not one of Eli's worst ideas. It put the thin veil of trash talk over the insults and had everyone too tired for aggression. He saved the day.

**MPV**

"That wasn't so bad," he said from the inside of the closet. Aaron never, and I mean never, took off his coat anywhere outside the closet. He, compulsively, had to hang his clothes up or put them in the hamper.

"Charles seemed to be having a wonderful time," I leaned over to see his reaction to my sarcasm.

"He's under a lot of stress," he answered with a bold faced lie.

I waited for him to enter the room then I confronted him, "He's in love with his Izzy." I let him sweat. Even he knew he couldn't lie about that no matter how convincing he was. Charles gave it away. "This raises the question, 'Why did he marry Kindle?'" I let him sweat some more, "Don't worry, I don't expect an answer, but know this: Isabella may not think the world of herself but she doesn't miss a single detail."

"So?" he asked a question I did not expect. He was too perceptive to ask that one honestly.

"_So_ he broke her heart and she's punishing him by dating Crawford," I answered, "Whatever she did to give you so much faith in her I want to thank her for it but I'm also a little pissed because it has made you blind."

"Maria," he cupped my cheek, "My sweet Maria," he melted me heart, "I don't know what living with her did to you. I love your sweetness, your ability to find something good in anything so I need you to explain why you can't find legitimacy in her moving on and rising above."

"It is this, my love," I sat on the bed and held his hand, "She doesn't have an explosive temper. The fights she gets into are almost always premeditated. She started a fight the first time she met me to test my loyalty because she knew I was flying under the radar and couldn't afford to get arrested. It wasn't a coincidence that the cop she knocked out over a cab turned out to be the partner of the guy we buried. No one took him seriously when he wanted to pursue her because it seemed like he wasn't being objective. The only fights she got into without a reason were due to her anger over Charles' rejection. And a person can only rise so high. There's a ceiling McNair."

"So she worked it out," he said out of hope more than conviction.

"No, she's going to punish him," I said in a tone that scared even me, "She's a predator posing as a house pet."

"Baby," he kissed my cheek, "My loyalties lie with you," he put his hand on his heart and gave me a smile, "But that woman punched through glass so I could keep my two million dollar hands and the job I love so much. I owe her the benefit of the doubt. She also killed and blew up more men than I want to count to save my life. I owe her my God damn loyalty."

"I get it love," I kissed him, a bark interrupted us, "What was that?"

"The bark of a dog," he said nonchalantly.

"You hate dogs," I reminded him.

"But you want one," he smiled, "They call it compromise," he kissed my forehead, "It's what people do when they love each other."

"You love me?" I put my hand on my thumping heart.

"Do you love me," for once he wasn't sure.

"With all my heart," I confessed.

"I love you Maria," he cupped my face with both his hands and kissed my forehead, "I love you so much it makes me understand the insane feelings Charles has for Isabella. I love you."

"Oh God," I kissed him, passionately.

"Wait," he pulled away from me, "Do you want closet space?"

I scrunched my brows at him. I had so many clothes here already. "And by closet space," he explained, "I mean breaking down a wall and building you a walk in closet with a master bath."

"You're asking me to move in with you?" I wanted to be sure I understood.

"In my haven't-dated-in-four-years way, yes," he nodded vigorously.

"Yes my love," I took of my clothes and gave him the all the hottest sex my double joints and enthusiasm could muster, for all of forty minutes.

**APV**

"This had better be good," I answered the phone angrily. Maria had just done something I had never experienced in all my years.

"It's been dropped," Charles' voice was unmistakable.

"What?" the blood just wasn't going to the right part of my anatomy.

"The case," he hissed, "They lost the body, apparently as soon as it got there, so there was no evidence recovered from it. There's basically no case. They just wanted to shake someone down. The case has been dropped." It was a celebratory tone.

"You're going to try to get her back," it wasn't a question.

"What the fuck do you think?" he asked me.

"I think you should be careful with Kindle," I told him honestly, "She'll be out for blood. She already knows what we all know," I looked at Maria, "That you're still in love with your Izzy. Go for it," I wanted him to be happy and I knew she was the only woman who could do it. "Go to her."

We all knew she was angry at him, of course none of us knew how much.


	34. Chapter 34

**BPV**

I walked into the hospital with a basket in my arms. I curled my hair. I even wore a dress, a tight, knee-length yellow one, very girlie. Heels were on my feet but pumps were concealed in my purse. Black pearls were around my neck. It bordered on overdressed but the Dean of Medicine didn't exactly have a casual dress code.

"Hello Miss Right," Shaughnessy passed me and walked backwards in front of me, "I've been looking for you."

"Careful now," I couldn't help but smile, "My first name is Always."

"Now I know you want me," he put his arm through mine and walked beside me, "If you didn't you would have used more convincing arguments like your boss is my ex-husband's best friend, _his_ boss is _my_ boyfriend and _his_ boss is my ex-husband."

"If you're going to make a list of reason's not to date me I'm not letting you walk me to my boyfriend's office," I put my head on his shoulder. There was something about Shaughnessy that made me feel lighter. I felt strangely comfortable having him touch me. Contact, for me, was unusual with people I was not related to or having sex with. I rarely initiated it and, disturbingly, it was like most people knew not to try.

"There's nothing I can tell him he doesn't already know," he ruffled my hair in an older brotherly fashion, "What is it about you, Bass, that drives men mad?" it sounded like he was thinking out loud. I would always be Bass in this building.

"Damage," I answered. I didn't mean to say it out loud. That shocked me so much I stopped in my tracks. "I'm not your classic damsel in distress," something made me continue talking, "But you don't need my six hundred dollar an hour shrink to tell you that I am more than one brand of fucked up," then I had to laugh. This bouncing baby surgeon was the first person I'd told about being in therapy. He gave me a smile and put his forehead on mine. His hand rested on my bare shoulder.

"Shaughnessy," Charles called from behind him.

"Watch me get lynched," he whispered.

"Does this look like the surgical floor?" Charles walked closer to us.

"No sir," he turned.

"Are you waiting for me to tell you to go do your job?" the chairman raised his voice. This was not part of any plan. It was almost too good to be coincidence. "You're an intern. You work till your fingers bleed then you thank us. Stop walking around like you own this hospital."

Still standing behind him, I saw Shaughnessy's head bob once. I grabbed his arm and pulled him back. He widened his green eyes at me. Smiling, I pulled the pen and pad from his white coat and scribbled my number on the back. "When you get off work," I tucked them back in his pocket, standing on my toes so that only he would hear.

"You'll be the death of me," he walked past me going in the wrong direction.

"Easy there big fella," I stepped in Charles' way.

"Are you collecting members of my staff?" he asked with something between anger and disgust.

"Are we having the conversation where you call me a whore again?" I put the basket on my hip.

"No," he pulled his thick, black hair, "I just... Look, I have as many notches on my bed post if not more than you do so this comes from nothing resembling a high horse," he looked to see if I would listen then he stood so close I could smell his natural fragrance and feel his breath in my hair. "I worry about you," he tilted my head up so I was looking at his face, "Don't tell me you can take care of yourself. I've been hung over in my fair share of strange places but the things that were always familiar were self-loathing and regret."

I curled my hand around his. The basket slid to the inside of my elbow. "I don't live like that any more. I'm different, maybe someone could go so far as to say better," I smiled, "I actually like Shaughnessy. I don't like people," I didn't want to overstate the change, "But I like him. And what I have with Crawford is a relationship. It isn't just about sex. He wants to know which magazines I read," I laughed.

"You don't read magazines," he was suddenly frustrated.

"I have a subscription to Guns and Ammo," I answered. There was no other magazine I could even think of reading without getting a headache but Crawford was insisting on details of a personality I wasn't sure I even had. He was a good guy, fun in the sack and always funny if you like that deadpan humour jaded professionals have. I was even getting to like him.

"You never told me that," Charles was hurt.

"You really needed to be told?" Crawford planted a kiss on my cheek, "What are you doing here hun?"

"Taking you lunch," I put my arm under his and leaned into him. There was a warmth about Crawford that I could feel when his arms were around me. It wasn't physical but he was a hard man, his heart was not on his sleeve. When it made its appearance it made me feel a longing, a sadness.

"Doctors invented working lunches for a reason Isabella and frankly this suburban cookie cutter thing you've been doing lately is creepy," he shocked me. Didn't people find the 'suburban cookie cutter' more appealing than... whatever it is my label says?

"The walls aren't going to crumble because I left for an hour to have lunch with my girlfriend," Crawford asserted his dominance. He took the basket and led me out of the door.

"You sure know how to entertain a girl Crawford," I laughed as we made our way out of the hospital.

"There's another show in an hour," he put his hand around my shoulders, "It features your ex-husband reading me the riot act."

"Who's afraid of the big bad Bass?" I teased.

"He's been making my life positively nightmarish this past month," he opened his car door for me. Uncouth as I was it was a marvel that I the men who stayed with me were so chivalrous, "And when will you start calling me Jack?"

"I don't need all the fingers on one hand to count the people who call you by your first name but okay, Jack," I rolled my eyes at him.

"So," he got into the driver's seat, "Where are we going?"

"I thought we'd be in your office," I shrugged, "But you can come over to my place."

"I finally get to see your dwelling?" he sounded excited. I gave him my address and we drove off.

**JPV**

Isabella lived in the kind of building that people making their careers dreamed of but billionaires wouldn't look at twice at. There were two apartments on each floor. She didn't live in the penthouse either. The walls were naked, still the same pale colour they paint them to allow new tenants to make the home their own. The sofas were black leather and angular. There was a big flat screen, also black. The coffee table was made of glass. There were two copies of Guns and Ammo on it. There was a fireplace that had never been used. Above it was a huge, framed photo of her with her twins. The colour and joy on it stood out in this room.

The dining room had a long table with eight chairs around it. There was a bowl of lemons in the centre. "I like the way they smell," she explained, "But I find the artificial scent in the cleaners is overwhelming."

I gave a short laugh and gestured that she continue. The kitchen was tasteful but understated. It also had the clinical feel of the rest of the house. "Have you ever cooked in here?" I asked. She answered by the opening the trash can, revealing a variety of take-away containers. She had a balcony but no chairs in sight that could have been placed on it. Her bedroom was luxurious. The bedding alone must have cost more than the coffee table. The dresser was made of the finest wood. The jewellery box was open. There weren't many pieces but they probably cost a lot more than my house and car.

"It's you," I leaned against the door frame. She tilted her head in question. "It's rich but not materialistic, there's a lot more to it than meets the eye and there's still a part of it that I haven't seen."

"You can't explore the entire labyrinth in one day," she sat on the bed and opened the basket, "If I'd known we were going to eat on my bed the menu would have been very different," she bit her lip.

"Don't bite that lip," I sat down beside her and sucked on her shoulder, "You know what it does to me and I have to be at work in half an hour."

"Thirty minutes is plenty of time," she hikeded her dress up, revealing smooth, toned legs.

"Put that dress down. You're being mean," I closed my eyes. Thirty minutes with Isabella was a slap in the face. It was like giving a starving man one mouthful of his favourite dish.

"Fine. Be that way," she pulled the dress down. She made it a point to torture me as we ate. Licking her fingers suggestively, moaning her enjoyment, even the way she bit and chewed. I almost decided not to go back to work. When I did leave she took off her dress and waved to me from the door. There was something mysterious, almost dark about Isabella, but her playfulness was ever present.

**BPV**

I was just done taking off my shoes when I heard a knock at the door. What do you know? Crawford could break one rule after all. "I knew you'd..." I trailed off when I saw Charles at my door.

"My good friends," he looked down at my bare breasts, "I miss you."

"I sent him away," I rolled my eyes. I couldn't help my slight smile.

"I know," his expression changed and he pushed the door aside, slamming it carelessly behind him. Before I could take my third step back he lifted me into his arms. I was conflicted. My legs curled around his waist but my hands pushed his shoulders. "Kiss me," he pulled the hair at the base of my neck. His eyes were burning. I felt him grow between my legs. My resolve was weakening before I'd even uttered a single 'No'. We looked at each other, our chests rising and falling together. "Kiss me," he moved so close my nipples rubbed against his jacket with every breath. My hands gave in and made their way around his neck.

His hands moved greedily over my body as he made his way to my couch. He sat down, placing me in his lap, rather than laying me down and being on top of me. He wanted me in control, wanted to know I wanted him. And if I didn't want him so badly I would get up and walk away. I ground myself against him as I took off his tie. I ripped his shirt open and his touch became more desperate. "Get it off," I had trouble with the belt. He took it off and threw it on the floor while I got his pants open. Dying for contact I went to pull at my underwear. It wasn't there but rather lying in scraps on the floor. Minus one problem.

At the moment he decided to take over. He pushed me back with one hand, supporting me with another. He fondled my breast. "Charles," I dug my nails angrily into his biceps. He took his time still, circling my clit with his member. "Fuck," my other hand pressed into his forearm.

"Izzy," he brushed my inner thigh.

"Charles please," I was losing the power even to be angry in my lust for him. He placed his member at my dripping core and pulled me onto him, filling me. His low, masculine groan took me to the edge must faster than I wanted. He pulled me up. I don't think he meant to kiss me but I couldn't resist the look on his face. He turned me on when he was so primal. I got so lost in our kiss I bit him. He thrust harder into me. I felt my abdomen tighten and the indescribable rush I felt only with this man. My hips bucked and my heart split in the sweet agony of orgasm.

**CPV**

Izzy rested her head on my shoulder. I breathed in the sweet smell that got stronger with exertion. My hands explored her. I'd missed this woman, the release her body gave me, the pure and simple happiness being with her brought me.

"You're bleeding," she said in an almost sleepy voice.

"I'm good," I looked at the parts of my arms where her nails had pierced the skin. They were deep enough to bleed and certainly looked like they hurt but I couldn't be bothered to feel them.

"You're a masochist," she tried to get off me but I wouldn't let her go far enough to even separate our chests. Of course she pushed harder.

"Come back to me Izzy," I held on tighter. I couldn't let her go now.

"No," her voice went cold.

"What if I told you I loved you?" I ran my hand through her silky hair.

"I still wouldn't come back," she hurt me not only with her words but also by how unaffected she was by mine.

"Not even if I told you I was leaving her?" I asked. Even though I knew what her answer would be I could not help the hope that tormented me.

"Not even then," she pushed hard enough to convey to me that I should let go. Once I did she got up and stormed off. Doing my pants as I went, I followed her.

"What do you want from me?" she screamed furiously.

"I want you," I screamed back, trying to catch her hand. She was too fast for me. The only thing I caught was the door in my face and a broken nose. "Izzy," I banged her bedroom door.

"Go home to your wife," she screamed from far within the room. It took me two seconds to decide to kick the door in and one attempt to do it.

"I'm not going anywhere till you hear me out," I pointed from the doorway. She came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

"The floor's yours," she gestured grandly.

"When you... There was a murder, uh, a killing in the building across the road from mine," I wasn't sure how to start.

"I know. I did it," she was getting annoyed with my pussy footing.

"Well I know and someone else knows," I took it from her start.

"How about we skip to the interesting part?" she tapped her foot.

"I married her for you, okay?" I lost control of the volume of my voice once again, "So she wouldn't die for your actions and you wouldn't have to either!"

"I know," she threw her towel at me. It hit me in the face and fell to my feet because my jaw wasn't the only part of me that went slack. I stood there with my mouth open long enough for her to disappear and come back dressed.

"If you already know all this," I started functioning again, "Why are you punishing me?"

"Because I had to find out about this from my least reputable of all my less than reputable PIs," she explained from her prison of calmness, "When the roles were reversed, when I had to walk away from you to keep you safe, you heard it from me. And when your turn to trust me came you ripped my heart out of my chest and stepped on it," she blinked away angry tears, "Now get out of my house before I reach down your throat and return the favour."

There was so much I wanted to say in that moment, seeing her lips tremble and a tear roll down her left cheek, but I knew there was absolutely nothing I could say so I turned around, picked up my things and left. As I walked down the street in my open shirt I thought about my relationship with Isabella. All we ever got was 'Almost' but I wasn't giving up. She wouldn't be so furious if she didn't love me like I loved her and I looked forward to the day when we'd have it all.


	35. Chapter 35

**AN: Welcome back Olga, how I've missed you. Thank you for the review. They're very hard to come by. Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**BPV**

"Open says me," Shaughnessy's voice came from behind the door and a smile came to my face. I wiped the last of my tears away and ran to the door. "I come bearing booze," he lifted a bottle of scotch, "I hear it helps socialisation," he slowed down on the last word, "You wanna talk about it?"

"I'm stupid," I stepped out of the way to let him in.

"I'll pour," he opened the bottle.

"I've never had to use two glasses in here before," I laughed as I got them for him.

"What did you do?" he asked after he poured and we sat on the couch facing each other. It was comfortable if you don't count the question he just asked me.

"I slept with my ex husband," I admitted.

"Shameless, I like that in a girl," he tipped his glass at me, "I wasn't sure you'd admit it."

"How did you know?" I leaned towards him.

"He went to see McNair a little after lunch hour in a new shirt and," he reached behind me, "And you have a button and a cuff link," he showed me his palm, "Wedged into your couch."

"There goes my dream of being a maid," I shrugged, "Very observant," I applauded him.

"I'm a doctor," he sipped, "It's in my job description to sniff out the things people do not usually admit, except, you know, the drunks in the ER who make life either very funny or very awkward."

"That must be entertaining," I imagined it. Shaughnessy with drunk people, it must be a riot.

"Everyone knows," I deduced.

"From the code team to the records department," he confirmed.

"Do you think Crawford will ban me from the building after he dumps me?" I was really looking for an answer.

"They don't know it's you," he waved it off, "And I won't tell them if you tell me what the hell you did to make the man need bandages."

"No comment," I wasn't really sure how I'd done it. "And if you open your mouth Irish I will put you on a spit and you know your people, I can get another one to turn you."

"What are you? The president of the KKK?" he laughed into his glass.

"They're white supremacists," I rolled my eyes, "You're white. Snow white except, you know, being red."

"They're anti-immigration, quit it with the Irish jokes and are we really talking about the KKK?" he scrunched his brow and downed his drink. A knock came from the door.

"Hide," I took his glass and shoved it into the wall unit.

"Seriously?" he stood and opened his arms.

"Through there, in the closet," I pushed him into the hall. "If people see you here they'll think it's acceptable to come visit me," I whispered.

"Crazy person," he made little circles next to his ear with his finger as he walked to my bedroom.

"What?" I yanked the door open, "Oh fuck," it was Kindle at the door.

"Can I come in?" she asked, perfectly civilised.

"I never gave you my address. What do you think?" I put my hand on my hip.

"Isabella, please," she just wouldn't go away.

I turned and walked to the couch. She followed me. "Drink?" I poured her a glass and drank from the bottle. She threw back the whole thing and I sat down with the bottle in my lap feeling a speech coming.

"Are you done?" she asked.

"You interrupted me," I put my hand on my crotch.

"Because when I walked in on you and my husband on our wedding day I thought that put us pretty close to even," she put the glass down a little harder than she had to.

"Is this you telling me to stay away from your husband?" I poured her another glass and took a sip from the bottle.

"I'm good for him," she persisted, "I can make him happy. He just needs to get over you."

"How's that my problem?" I put my foot on the couch then my chin on my knee.

"I know that deep down you care for him," she kept plodding on the mature part, "But you can't make him happy."

"I made him very happy this afternoon," I smiled.

"You branded him," the veneer of civility started to wear thin.

"Can you get to the point?" I took a small sip from my bottle, "My date might finish without me."

"You're such a child," she threw her hands up. "Do you take nothing seriously?"

"You want me to be serious? Okay," I stood up to get closer to her eye level but shoes had not been invented to make me that tall. "He loves me, so he's gonna keep coming back to me. I'm not going to turn him away because even though I don't want him, I don't want you to have him."

She nodded and put the glass she didn't drink from back on the table. With a sigh she walked to the door. She stood there with the door open but she didn't leave. "You keep doing that," she turned to face me, "I'll just wait," she smiled, "Because frankly, you are the emotional equivalent of the Ebola virus. It's only a matter of time before bleed him dry." With that she turned and left.

"That must have hurt," Shaughnessy walked back into the room.

"Only enough to piss me off," I drank from the bottle then pulled his glass out from the wall unit.

"You piss everyone off," he came to sit next to me, "At least this way there's some semblance of justice in the world."

"Oh Irish," my bruises cooled, "You're like the brother I never wanted."

"You're like the sister that could have made my life easier by being the screw up in my family," he squeezed my chin playfully.

"What's your family like?" I wondered.

"Above being pleased," he emptied his glass into his mouth, "But I really am a screw up."

"You're talking to a twenty five year old divorcee whose husband has parental custody," I reminded him, "Not to mention that my college degree is falsified and I had to quit going to my shrink because I'm afraid she wants me to either admit myself into a mental institution or hand myself over to the police. I have the corner on screwing up."

"Let's start with the falsified degree," he refilled his glass.

"I'm twenty one," I'd been lying so much about my age it felt strange to say the real one.

"Continue," he said after some thought and a sip, "To your shrink."

"Assault with a deadly weapon and a really good lawyer," I gave him the short version, "Shrink thought I had some rage issues and my leech for hire convinced a judge that anger management was enough of a slap on the wrist."

"You left out sociopathy," he mumbled from behind his glass.

"I left out a lot more than that but if I told you everything I'd be forced to go dig a grave for you and I'm a little low on friends," I laughed. It was either that or cry and I wasn't partial to tears.

"I drank, slept around, got creative with my dad's prescription, trashed my mother's car on a drug bender and burned the house down while passed out in it," he gave it to me in a nutshell.

"How are you a doctor?" I was impressed. Twisted, I know.

"The same way you aren't doing time," he smiled over the top of his glass, "Money and loose morals. The interesting question is, 'How am I still alive'?"

"The only reason that question is interesting is that there is absolutely no answer," I drew a line through the air and my glass tilted. I was starting to feel the warmth of the liquor.

"You'd know," he raised his glass and tipped it into his mouth.

"Our friendship is a horrible idea," I thought about the things we had in common: drinking, drugs, loose morals and too much money.

"Scandalous," he laughed as he topped us up. We looked at each other then at the door as another knock came. "You're gonna make me hide again, aren't you?"

"Would you like to stand awkwardly and watch me being rude to someone?" I gave him his other option. Six weeks I'd been living in this house and the only people who came to my door needed nothing more than a tip or a signature.

"I'll be in your closet," he took his glass with him this time. I opened the door to find Crawford.

"Jack," the wind left my lungs.

"Belle," he came in.

"Please don't call me that," I closed the door behind him.

"Izzy," he turned to face me. This was a test I just never passed.

"Please don't call me that either," I dropped myself onto the couch.

"So your ex-husband gets a nickname and I have to call you by your full name," he sat down.

"So you came here to fight," I offered him my glass.

"What was he doing here?" he took the glass from me and put it on the table. My buzz picked an inopportune moment to remind me that the bottle on the table was not decorative.

"He came to yell at me too," I'm sure those were his intentions.

"Then he changed his shirt," he looked me in the eye. Why do people do this?

"Can we get to the accusation? I'm wasting a good buzz," I turned to face him, putting my legs on the sofa between us.

"You're really gonna make me ask," he realised. He decided to stare me down anyway. I kept a neutral expression, something that just seemed to aggravate the situation, "Did you fuck him?" he raised his voice.

"Yeah and you know what? He didn't fall asleep afterwards," my less gracious side won. I caught his arm when he got up to leave. Such was his determination that I just got lifted to my feet. "I didn't sleep with him," I changed my story, "But you decided that I had way before you came here."

"So your solution is to confirm it and imply that he's a better lover," he was still pissed off, understandably.

"I'm a mean drunk. It was on my resume," my manners did not improve with alcohol.

"It also said you were one hell of a liar," he turned to look at me, "I employed you Isabella, no one knows better than I do that you bluff and threaten without pause," a smile crept onto his face, "So who were you drinking with and where is he?"

"It's Shaughnessy and my money's on the closet," I answered. I must be getting sloppy. This was the second man I was unsuccessful in concealing. I was expecting a fight and got a kiss instead. "That was unexpected."

"Shaughnessy's an intern," he moved his hand dismissively, "The boy's got the fear of God in him without accounting for the fact that all the men in your life are his superiors. Besides, if he wanted to get into your pants he would have tried to hump you the day you met."

"Not a single word about you trusting me to be alone with a cute boy," I gave him the look, the one you give a jealous boyfriend,.

"I trust you," he kissed my forehead, "And I'm gonna leave you alone with... a cute boy," he walked backwards to the door, pulling me along with him, "But you're coming to my place tomorrow."

"Deal," I stood on my toes and kissed him.

"Tomeetmymother," he was gone so fast I had no time to tell him what a catastrophic idea that was.

"Not a single word about you trusting me," Irish mocked behind me.

"Don't look at me like you've never seen a hypocrite before," I walked back to my lofty throne to drink sweet nectar with my loyal, if not humble, servant. In English, I went back to my couch to drink hard liquor with my new friend.

"So I stumbled into your... gym," he pointed back over his shoulder.

"How'd you like it?" I skipped the part where I'd tell him there's no stumbling around a bookshelf because I would snoop too if I were in a strange house.

"You scare me," he pointed, squinting.

"I'd give a tour and demonstration but my mommy told me not mix booze and weaponry," I sat down again. You know the booze is going to your head when you can't feel your descent onto a chair.

"I saw the target, Guns and Ammo but no gun," he came to sit in front of me, "Do you have a gun? Because _my _mommy told me not to fuck with women who own guns."

"Will you still be my friend if I show you my arsenal?" I got up and left the bottle. My judgement had been circling the drain since Irish came through the door. I dug my nails into the inside of my hand. When I didn't feel the sting I knew I was being stupid. I also knew he'd follow me and it never hurt to strike fear into the heart of those who knew your secrets.

He followed me past the library/office, behind the bookshelf and into the biggest room in my house. "Biology," he noticed one of the textbooks.

I answered by opening my harmless looking cabinet and pulling out a 9mm along with a silencer. He was visibly nervous. I tried not to laugh as I connected the pieces. There were two targets in the room. One on each wall adjacent to the cabinet. I raised the gun at the target furthest from Irish. There's no trusting aim under the influence. I hit the second circle. My aim was going to hell. The slug hit the amour plated barrier behind it and dropped to the floor.

"I probably shouldn't be saying this while you're holding a gun in your hand but I researched you and I found no firearm licences," he raised his hands like he was afraid I would shoot him.

"Like I said," I put the gun down, "I would have to dig you a grave."

"I know better than to ask this but what else is in that thing?" I pointed at my cabinet.

"Four 9mms, two shotguns, a rifle I don't know how to use, a machete I hope to never use and a sword I have been dying to try out but you don't get a lot of people who like sword fights and I don't have a spare anyway," I removed the silencer, "And knives, lots of knives that I don't use for cooking."

"Why?" he was at a loss.

"My life is sometimes dangerous," I glossed over it, "I like to know that I'm... ready." I even went so far as to punch the bag in fingerless leather gloves so I wouldn't forget the feel of bare knuckle brawling. I still liked the skin on my knuckles so I didn't go all the way bare. I had a high horizontal bar and two lower ones to keep my arms strong. I didn't have weights. I had a mat on which I did pretty much everything and I had a treadmill.

"Are you telling me you could kick my ass?" he looked around the room, "I mean without the heavy artillery."

"It still wouldn't be a fair fight," I smiled at him. A knock came from the door. You couldn't hear it from this room but a light went on. Gotta love technology.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Your turn to get the door," I sighed, "If anyone asks I'm passed out on my bathroom floor."

"I always thought you just didn't give a shit about your reputation but you actually want people to think the worst of you," he made an observation. I didn't answer. I was in no mood for the 'lowering expectations' conversation.

"Go get the damn door," I pushed him and waited in the hall. The door opened but no one said anything. It closed again but there was no talk.

"You have a visitor," he handed me a black, cylindrical container with a strap.

"I'm sorry," I took the cylinder and put my hand on his shoulder. He looked into my eyes and put his hand around mine like he understood and was forgiving me. I turned my head so I could finally see Raphael but he'd dimmed the lights. "I didn't think you really existed," I confessed.

"I know," he walked closer, "You wouldn't have killed him if you did."

Shaughnessy's hand twitched around mine. I could feel his pale green eyes on me but the lights had just come on and I was looking at Nicholas Raphael, a man I'd heard about but I'd eventually written off as a ghost story. Cain told me of a final measure of security. A man who kept it all from falling apart because he had everything on everyone. It seemed like a scare tactic to me, too vague to be true. Standing here with my heart in my throat I saw why there would be no distinct description of him. He was Cain's twin.


	36. Chapter 36

This had to be a dream. I was lying on a blanket on a wooden floor. Isabella's small body was on top of mine. Her head was on my shoulder and I could smell her hair, feel her skin. "Make love to me," her voice wafted to my ears. In the lack of continuity dreams are famous for I found myself on top of her. I kissed my way down her neck, to her collar bone, her breast, her navel then lower still. I raised my eyes to see the look on her face as her lips parted under my tongue only to see Crawford kissing her neck.

In the next second she was on her feet with a sheet around her. Crawford was smiling at me from behind her. His hands moved down her body. I wanted to tear them off but I was rooted to the spot. Crawford walked around her and reappeared on the other side as Blithe. She turned her head away as he leaned into her. I dove for him and he disappeared as soon as I laid my hands on him. When I turned back to Isabella she was naked and facing away from me. There were seven bleeding gashes on her back.

He was standing in front of her, looking at me over her head. An unmistakeable scar was under his left eye. He put his arms around her, dragged his finger across one of the bleeding lines on her back and put it in his mouth, smiling at me as he did. Again, I was powerless to stop him. She turned around to face me. There was a child in her arms, a girl with black hair and startlingly blue eyes. Cain ripped the child from her arms. She stood there with a dazed expression. A boy with blond hair and those same haunting eyes came out of nowhere and circled her. Still I couldn't move. I reached out to her but she couldn't see me. I tried to call to her but I couldn't get a sound out.

The room started filling with every awful aspect of her life. I could see every broken bone, every cut, every absent lock of hair and every bastard who'd ever hurt her. The more the room filled the further away I got from her. I called out. My voice was still trapped in my throat but she was looking at me. Everything faded away and was replaced by darkness, then Kindle. She turned on the light and showed me a cloth. She then sat herself slowly down in my lap and started wiping my forehead.

"Breathe," she moved the cloth down my neck. "Shhh," her hands moved slowly to my back, "It's okay."

"No," I shook my head, pulling her other hand from behind my back, "It's not okay."

"You're hurting me," she said in a quiet voice.

"I'm sorry," I removed my hands from her wrists, "I'm so sorry," I rubbed her wrists, "I'm going out for a while," I wiped my face with my hands and squeezed my nose before I remembered it was broken.

"Charles," she put her hands on my shoulders then cupped my face, "You can't go out like this," she put her face directly in my line of sight.

"I can't stay here," I flipped her then got to my feet.

"You're not going anywhere," she got up and grabbed my arm, "Not until you tell me what the matter is."

"Bad dream," I closed my eyes tightly and pulled my arm from hers. She followed me into the closet.

"I used to think you were cold," she faced the shelves and put her hands on them as if trying to hold herself up, "That's why I kept myself from investing. You seemed devoid of the prerequisite emotions and I must say you were. Then you met your precious little Izzy," she sighed the way she did when she couldn't translate something from thought to the spoken word. I could feel her looking at me. I stopped dressing and waited. "I thought she was part of the process, that you were finally growing up but... you're losing it."

"Don't analyse me," I picked up a vest and went back to dressing.

"Analyse you?" she laughed, "You think I need to analyse you? I wipe your sweat every time you wake up from a nightmare screaming her name. You and I were lovers for over ten years and friends, good friends. The last time you woke up screaming a woman's name your first wife had just died."

"Don't," I pointed at her. I could not stand to hear Isabella being compared to Crystal.

"I took care of you the last time you destroyed yourself over a woman. I helped you get back on your feet. Don't you dare point that finger at me," she hissed.

"I'm sorry," I owed Kindle a lot more than I gave her gratitude for. I went a little crazy after I'd killed Crystal, some would even go so far as to say suicidal.

"Tell me," she pleaded, "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

"I don't know what to tell you," I was tired of fighting with Kindle. She knew too much about me. That, coupled with her annoying persistence, made the process draining.

"Something's eating you," she made me jump with her touch. I hadn't realised how close she'd gotten. "You need to tell me so I can help you," she put her arms around me from behind. It never failed to amaze me how foreign her touch felt after all these years. "Charles please."

"I met Isabella over three years ago," I remembered her standing on the roof of my building, right on the ledge. "She was so lost," she didn't even know what city she was in, "I took her home and we put her life back together. It was pretty great for a few months. Then her parents died. She left, told me not to call and said she'd be back when she was able," I shut my eyes against the images that were starting to fill my head, "I should have tried to find her," I put my forehead to the wood.

"What happened?" her fingers curled into my flesh.

"Nothing good," I closed my eyes tighter and tried to limit what I saw to the darkness.

"I'm sorry," she squeezed harder.

"Not nearly as sorry as I am," I extricated myself from her grasp, "I have to go see her."

"A broken nose isn't enough injury for one day?" she actually smiled.

"I just need to see her," I explained, "I have this feeling I can't shake."

"You won't even get through the front door," she picked up the phone, "Give her a call," she passed it to me, "Then come back to bed," she rubbed behind my ear then slipped under the covers. I called, thrice, she didn't answer. She sent me a message telling me she was busy and not to call again. Big surprise. I got back into bed and curled up on my side. Sleep refused me. I stared into the darkness till the sun came up.

**Shaughnessy's PoV**

"I'm just here to talk," Nicholas broke the silence that was beginning to feel endless.

"Then stop pointing that gun at Irish," Bass's lips stretched into her cheeks but it was far from what could be called a smile.

"What's to stop you from killing me once I do that?" he asked her.

"Not much," she admitted.

"Nothing," he amended, "But I assure you I come in peace."

"The hell you say," she scoffed.

"Irish," he called. It took a while for me to turn my head. Feeling like I was on ground zero of the clash of the titans was not doing much for my reaction time. "If you would come this way," he gestured towards the dining table with the hand that wasn't pointing a gun at my chest. I looked to Bass for some kind of signal.

"Lift up your shirt," she stretched her hand in front of me.

"Rising from the dead is beyond even my brother," he pulled his shirt out of his pants and lifted it all the way to his neck without even changing the angle of the barrel.

"I've seen so many of your brother's tricks that Honest Abe could tell me you're his twin and I'd still require proof," she unbuttoned her shirt. Part of me wanted to ask what in the world they were doing. His shirt came down and hers came off. She took one step in his direction and he took one back.

"Throw it to me," he opened his free hand.

"Scared?" she raised the blue fabric in her hand.

"Of you?" his brows shot up, "I'd be insane not to be. And watch the aim. If I have to look away to catch that thing, I'm not catching it."

Bass being Bass she threw it way off centre. He ignored the shirt, raised the gun and fired. I'd never been shot at before. It wasn't an out of body experience, I wasn't seeing things in slow motion either. Besides seeing Bass pull me towards her, I completely missed the moment. "You son of a bitch," she said as she peeled back my t-shirt.

"It's a flesh wound," I heard his voice as I came back to myself, "I'm not going to shoot the boy's arm off. As I said, I come in peace. Try not to fuck with me though."

"Sit," I was pushed into a chair. It really was a flesh wound, hurt like a bitch but only needed a bandaid slapped on it. I looked across the table at the man who'd just shot me. Draped across his shoulders, via the front of his neck, was her shirt.

"Satisfied?" he asked her.

"No but I believe you," she walked around my chair and sat down next to me. He gave the shirt back. It made about as much sense to me as dogs sniffing each others' butts. Ritual but senseless.

"It's my eyes," he explained as he sat down, "They alternate between grey and blue. Grey against most colours, really blue against blue."

I forgot about everything else for a minute and looked at his eyes. Stupid as it was, I was fascinated by the anatomical aspects of it... until he put the gun on the table. "Let's skip the foreplay," Bass put her knife on the table, "Why are you here?"

He replied by putting a brief case on the table then opening it. "There are some things you should have," he turned it around. There were CDs, flash drives, hard drives and sealed envelopes. Not forgetting the cylindrical container abandoned somewhere on the floor. At first I couldn't make head or tail of it then I remembered that this was the twenty first century. Information was everything.

"Of course you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart," she said in a flat tone.

"I could do without the sarcasm but I want out," he replied.

"Up until today, you were as real to me as Harvey the Rabbit," she leaned closer to him, "Anyone who knew you is dead. If out is all you wanted this is the last place you would have come to."

"I was silent," he sighed, "I kept everyone on a leash but I slept at night because I was on another continent and had a 'Don't ask, don't tell' policy with my brother. The truth of the matter is this: I was raised as he was so I knew exactly what he was doing to you but I told myself there was nothing I could do. Even though you didn't think I existed, you knew all this was out there somewhere," he ran his hand across the top of the case, "I thought the very least I could give you was peace of mind."

"Is this everything?" she asked in a level tone. He nodded. "Get the fuck out of my house," she pointed in the direction of the door.

"I really am sorry," he pushed his chair back.

"Fuck your sorry," her hand shot across the table and pinned his with her nails, "For two reasons," she dug deeper into his flesh, "One, this isn't Jerusalem. You don't get to come here for redemption. Two, and listen closely, you're a liar."

"Fair enough," he didn't argue, "I'll be on my way."

She peeled her hand away but grabbed his arm forcefully when he got up. "I feel I should warn you," she let go and folded her arms, "I know people. And in the history of the world, no one has ever changed without a really good reason. Whoever it is, I will find them and I will rip them out of your life. Just for spite, I will trap you with nothing but your thoughts till you lose your mind," she rounded the table, "Now leave this place and know that to set foot on it ever again will be the end of you."

"I guess it will have to be enough to have met you once," he tilted his head to the side as he put the gun back into its holster.

"What are you playing at?" she stood in front of him and looked him in the eye. I couldn't help noticing how short she was every time she stood toe to toe with... anyone. The way Bass acted made me forget she wasn't ten feet tall and bulletproof.

"I've never heard of anyone like you," he backed up the slightest bit. It was a wonder to behold. He seemed afraid of her. The man with the gun was showing classic signs of fear. I wasn't sure I wanted to know about the history here.

"Right," she slanted her body and used the table for balance, "You guys have been doing this for how many generations?"

"More than I care to say out loud," he looked at the floor, "There were nineteen others," he kept his eyes glued to the floor, "Twelve died within the first six months. The seven who survived half a year were cut loose. They all killed themselves."

And that was as far as he went with his story before the chair broke against his side and he crashed to the floor. She disappeared after him behind the table. I could hear her curse with every punch. There is no instruction manual for this. This guy had obviously been involved in something really, really awful and, in all likelihood, deserved more than he was getting but what was I supposed to do? Sit here quietly? Stop her? Probably not a good idea. Leave? I'd have to walk around this table and past the carnage. My conflict resolution skills were weighted strongly towards the non-violent techniques.

"Bass," I got up and walked slowly around the table. Not the best idea but I was out of my depth here. With a scream, she slammed his head against the hardwood floor. Then she looked at me with crazed eyes. I jumped three feet in the air. It was like she woke up at that moment. The rage left her eyes and she got to her feet.

"Assalamu alaikum," she smiled as she wiped his blood off her knuckles, on her pants.

"Wa alaikum assalaam," He got up and walked to the door, keeping a cautious distance. Not once did he put up a fight. That was guilt if I'd ever seen it. She closed the door on him and I breathed a sigh of relief. She wouldn't take her hands off it, breathing short gasping breaths. This I could handle.

"Just sit down and try to breathe evenly," I tried to pull her to a chair but she wouldn't budge.

"Hospital," she gasped.

"Just try to calm down," I did not want her to go out five seconds after a guy she'd just beaten up in this state.

"This isn't a panic attack," she pressed a hand to her heart, "It's coke," she laughed with a sad face, "This is what you get for doing as much cocaine as I did."

"Okay," I pulled my cellphone out of my pocket and dialled 911.

"It'll pass," she slapped away the hand that I was using to check her racing pulse.

"You want to roll the dice with heart failure?" I tried to shake her up, "Lie down."

"Drugs kill," she laughed on her way to the couch.

"You think?" I turned from her and went on with the phone call. Her hands were overlapped on her chest, her eyes closed. The only thing missing was a pine box. "When did you fall off the wagon?" I distracted myself from the image.

"Still on it," she sang.

"Your heart rate and blood pressure are insane, your temp has spiked, your behaviour is violent and erratic," I listed.

"I'm clean," she slapped her forehead, "I have to lie to a lot people about a lot of things. Opportunities to tell the truth are not things I let fly by."

Our ambulance arrived before I could reply. There was a worrying lack of bitching as she was being hooked up to the monitors and such. "My chest doesn't hurt any more," she tried to get up, "Maybe I was having an anxiety attack," she shrugged.

"Please lie back down miss," a paramedic pushed her gently.

"If you like that hand," she sneered down at it, "You will take it off me."

"Just lie back down miss," he tried to be reassuring.

"She will. _Hurt_. You," I warned him.

"Just try to stay calm," he backed off a little.

"My heart rate is normal, the pain is gone. Happy birthday to me. Now let me off. There are things that need my attention," she freed herself from the equipment and swung her feet to the floor. "I'm asking nicely."

"Nice kitty," I put my hand up, "Pull over," I yelled at the driver.

"What do you think this is? A taxi?" the driver yelled back.

"If your friend doesn't stop this tin can I'm going to stab you in the heart and I'm gonna like it," she put a needle none of us had seen her swipe on her knee.

"Dude, she's had a really long day," I told him. He called to his buddy and we came to a stop. "Thanks for the ride," I smiled.

"Fuck you," he said under his breath. I almost laughed as he slammed the door.

"So, how are we ending the night?" I asked.

"_I_ am going to dig up some information. _You_ have two options," she talked like a game show hostess, "Door number one: this is a trap and you come with me because, well most traps involving me end in death for all people who aren't me. Door number two: when I say 'dig up information', I mean it literally. The location is Murderville so going on this expedition is perilous."

"Wow," I weighed my options. The rock and the hard place had nothing on these doors. "If anyone's gonna try to kill me I'd rather have you present."

"Okay then," she ditched the bogus cheer. We went back to the viper.

"You're going to the hospital after this is done," I was adamant.

"Sure," she surprised me. Of course it was still too early in our friendship for me to know that sure, even without the sarcastic tone, meant no. I kept stepping on the imaginary brake every time we rounded a corner. She would chuckle in her throat each time. We stopped on a street straight out of Wrong Turn and she pulled a sledgehammer from the trunk.

"You're kidding me, right?" I stood there with my mouth open, "A sledgehammer in the trunk of your car?"

"I keep my insurance policies under the floorboards," she put it on her shoulder. Then I couldn't help but laugh. "One remark about any cartoon with a hammer and you're gonna get it."

"You were funnier when I was drunk," I followed her into the shadows. The interior was surprisingly... not dingy.

"Give me that," I pulled the tool from her.

"Chivalry is dead but okay," she directed me. I hacked up the floor and pulled out a leather satchel.

"Do I want to know what's in here?" I asked back in the car.

"No," she hit the gas, "Nobody wants to know what's in there. I wouldn't need to drink a fifth to go sleep if I were ignorant."

"Hospital?" I stuffed the bag under my seat.

"Apparently," she brought the car to a screeching halt then pointed outside my window. A little girl was bent over, coughing on the side of the road. "I'd call 911 but I'm afraid she'll be gone when the ambulance gets here."

"What is she doing here by herself?" I opened the door and ran to her. She backed up and curled into herself. "I'm a doctor, I'm here to help you."

"Yeah right," she she spared me a distrustful glance.

"Little girl," Bass poked out of my window, "You're coughing up blood. Getting in a car with a stranger is not the very worst danger at this point. Also, standing on this street, not one of your best options."

"As always, your lightest touch," I threw a dirty look at her. I spoke too soon. The skinny little child practically ran into the car.

"You'll have to sit in his lap," Bass said sympathetically. A shrug was the only response.

"Perhaps a two seater was not the best means of transportation," I commented as we were crammed into a small space with bodily fluids flying.

"It was either this or the bike," she leaned over to glare at me.

"Two billion dollars and you can't buy one practical car?" I hissed.

"I like you Irish," she said in a high pitched little voice, "Don't make me hurt you."

"Bitch," I said over the little girl's head.

"Blow me," she drove faster still. Blood got coughed into her face. "If you give me TB, kid, I'm gonna kill you."

"She's joking," I patted the girl's hand.

"What's your name?" Bass asked after a long silence.

"Her name is 'Coughing up blood', don't make her talk," I said as I tried to make her comfortable.

"Yes Doctor," she put the pedal down. We pulled into the ambulance bay and would have passed for one if we had a bigger car and a siren.

"I'm gonna take a shower," I trudged to the locker room.

"Count me in," she followed.

"I hopes that's as dirty as it sounds," I put my arm around her.

"Flirting, I like it," she pressed herself into my side. We carried on like this all the way to the locker room. I jumped into the shower and jumped three feet in the sir when Bass came in, naked.

"Pass the soap," she laughed.

"Dude, you can't shower with me," I caught myself as I was about to turn to her.

"I'm not gonna jump you and you're not going to jump me," she was very matter-of-fact, "It's harmless."

"How do you know?" I asked the tiles in front of me.

"Turn around," she instructed. No good could possibly come of this but I turned to face her, "Anything?" she smirked.

"Shockingly, nothing," I couldn't believe it, "You're hot and I'm a warm-blooded twenty five year old, healthy man. Hell a sick man would want to fuck you."

"Maybe we were related in a past life," she snatched my shower gel. It was strange. I've been attracted to people I didn't even like so I was at a total loss here. "You've never checked me out. Not once," she went on. I could feel my brows move closer to each other.

"Hold on," I cupped her face and kissed her. She kissed me back. It felt strange. "Maybe we were related in a past life."

"Told you so," she soaped up, "Where is everyone?"

"Working themselves into early graves," I mumbled, "So you might want to watch your actions."

"What does work ethic have to do with me?" she almost laughed.

"It's not work ethic," I couldn't believe she hadn't connected the dots, "When you pull a stunt like the one you did today the big Bass takes it out on Crawford, Crawford takes it out on the heads of the various specialities and it trickles down."

"It must really suck at the bottom of the food chain," she laughed at me.

"It blows," I nodded. We finished our shower with a shocking lack of weirdness. She wore my orange scrubs again. We went through people's lockers and ate their snacks. "This was the most terrifying night of my life," I walked backwards in front of her to the door.

"You spoke too soon," a bottled sounding voice said behind me. I turned to see a woman in a jump suit. "If you would stay inside this room till we've set up the proper facilities. You've been exposed to the pneumonic plague and you're being quarantined."

"Now my day is perfect," Bass slid to the floor. She seemed more annoyed than anything else. I sat down next to her and put my head on my knees. And to think I could have spent this night watching surgery tapes. A warm blanket and a stale beer sounded really great right now.


	37. Chapter 37

**AN: This chapter has been killing me! I've written it and rewritten and rewritten it. Now I hate it and want it out of my life. It's blocking me. I can't see past the stupid thing. Hopefully I will be able to now. Reviews would help. Questions, suggestions, anything.**

It was a bad day. It had been a bad week. If you didn't know better you wouldn't think much of one of the best hospitals in New York City. How would you know not to? The chairman of the board, who referred to the bible as four thousand years of the telephone game, was in the chapel. The dean of medicine was a wreck. He attended all his meetings and performed all his tasks but it was all far from his best work. The various department heads under him took the brunt of the fallout and their jobs were already hard enough. The head of Cardio was hiding in an empty conference room because he wanted to close his eyes for five minutes and and not see the walls crumble.

Anthony and Eli were playing hookey. Eli was in his room. The volume on his seldom used home theatre system was turned up as far as it would go. His ears hurt, his core vibrated uncomfortably with the bass. Every blind was drawn and the lights were off but the darkness was not comforting. He would go to the hospital later, when his mother wouldn't get worked up about it. Every once in a while he picked up his phone and scrolled to his brother's number but never dialled. He knew there was nothing he could offer, outside of annoyance.

Anthony was in his father's hotel in an empty bathtub. Liquor bottles, cigarette boxes and joints littered the tiles. There were bar floors that smelled better than him. He still carried around the dark, raw ache of Audrey's death. None of the others had thought about Isabella's predicament more than he had. They were all avoiding it, hoping for the best. Anthony's hope was spent. He was the one to hide her car, the one full of secrets. He was worried for her. The pneumonic plague attacked the lungs. Isabella's were lined with tar and had been through a few rounds of waterboarding. If the injuries to her ribcage were anything to go by, they had probably been punctured at some point. The death rate, even with early detection and treatment, was fifty to ninety percent, not to mention general health. The outlook was not good, and that was the generous view.

Isabella was itching to pull her chest tube out. She didn't want it there and it wasn't the first time this week that she thought of just ripping it out and the rest of it be damned. She couldn't give in to that though. You gave up your right to check out when you became a parent. No matter how hard it got... and right now it was really hard.

The words 'post traumatic stress disorder' made Isabella roll her eyes. A bad dream was a bad dream. She truly did not understand how a conscious mind replayed a miserable event... until she was locked in a plexiglass box, being watched every hour of every day. Fortunately for her bunkmate her fear was like a perfume she wore everyday. It was more concentrated in their current location but she was skilled in the art of making it background noise. Unfortunately skills go to sleep when you do.

The Irishman was sad. He didn't know how to help his friend and every scream she uttered at night before he could wake her was a cut on his soul. By the end of the first week he remembered the names she screamed: Cain and Raphael, the ones she whispered: Charles, Anthony and Eli, and the ones that made her cry: Sarah, Billy and Bastian.

Quinn Shaughnessy wasn't the soundest sleeper either. He was also haunted. He just didn't talk in his sleep.

There were visitors. You didn't need all the fingers on one hands to count Isabella's. Irish had more but it didn't really matter. The ones he was looking to see were not coming. He knew it but he hoped. "Let's talk," he suggested. The more silence there was during the day, the more noise there was at night, and by noise he meant screaming. They were trapped with themselves and all the things they tried so very hard to run away from.

"I wonder what the weather's like," Isabella made idle conversation. She knew full well that this was not what he was suggesting.

"I keep hoping that my parents will come," he bypassed her deflection, "I know they won't but I hope."

"What did you do Irish?" she gave in, "Parents will cut you off for using to the point of falsifying prescriptions but they'll welcome you back with open arms at even the promise of cleaning yourself up. Yours gave you a severance package and didn't even blink when you became a doctor."

Shaughnessy opened his mouth and closed it. Whatever he wanted to talk about, he had trouble saying. Then again he probably didn't expect much of a response, let alone an in depth probe.

"That skin graft covering eighty percent of your back? A better job could have been done," she pointed out, "And you could have the scars removed but you don't. I recognise that. You're hanging on to pain. People call it punishing yourself."

"I had a brother," Shaughnessy said after a long silence, "He was the good one, the one who was going to become a surgeon. I was the junkie who burned the house down. He died in that fire. I killed him."

It was silent for another long stretch of time. Isabella wanted to tell him she was sorry, that he should forgive himself but she didn't. She knew it would just be putting sandpaper to a wound that was never going to heal anyway.

"There's a moment, after you've saved someone's life, when the world becomes quiet," Isabella said, "It doesn't last but for a few seconds you can justify your presence here. For a few seconds, you have peace."

"I know. What did you do that's so unforgivable?" Shaughnessy asked. He wasn't asking with the intention to argue, like everyone else does. He knows there are unforgivable things and he can recognise someone who's beating herself up.

"I ran away from home when I was eighteen," Isabella started, "I got mixed up with some people I shouldn't have and in my absence my mother and step father were killed. Their house was burned to the ground. By the time I had sense enough to go home my father had died of a heart attack. He was forty four," her nails bit into her palm. "I fell in love with Billy, he died for it. I had a baby girl, she didn't live long enough to sit up on her own. You've been friends with me for five minutes, you've been shot _and_ you have the plague. People shouldn't die for caring. It's unforgivable."

There was silence. Shaughnessy recognised this guilt so he knew there was nothing he could say. They just lay in their beds either coughing or quiet as the misery of the day's confessions hung in the air. Crawford came by to check on Isabella. She looked worse than Shaughnessy. Her skin was ashen, her eyes sunken, puffy and red rimmed. She was sleeping and he didn't want to wake her. Shaughnessy had taken the opportunity to catch up on some shut-eye.

He left a message that Isabella be told he came by. She didn't want them hovering but he wanted her to know he was thinking of her, always. His mother was being a pain in the ass, coming over and cooking like he was the sick one. She was a sweet, overbearing woman who sometimes forgot her son wasn't sixteen. Charles came around too. He watched Isabella, aching to touch her cheek, to put her head on his chest and wrap his arms around her. Upstairs his ex, ex, ex wife was provoking his new wife. It was Rosemary's way of passing the time, ruining Charles' marriages.

"Where's your husband?" she asked Kindle.

"Visiting the mother of his children," Kindle answered casually, "She contracted the plague while playing Good Samaritan. Sadly the kid she brought in didn't make it. Pre-teen Jane Doe," she shook her head.

"My heart bleeds," Rose said, "For you. I bet you hope the little slut bites it."

"Why would I want that?" Kindle smiled. She knew how much this woman liked to torment people.

"Play it cool all you like," Rose was undeterred, "She's got Charles wrapped around her little finger and she's not even trying. She's kicking your ass."

"You're short sited," Kindle picked up a patient's chart, "It's draining to love someone like Isabella. He can't do it forever, unless she dies. Then she really kicks my ass."

"You're conniving," Rosemary laughed.

"Charles has never been known for his taste in women," Kindle looked up at Rosemary.

"Take me down to the kindergartener," Rose was getting bored with Kindle. She'd accepted the fact that her husband was in love with another woman. Thus she had no entertainment value.

"The kindergartener has tubes and needles in some not so fun places," she snapped the chart she wasn't reading shut, "Leave her alone."

"Now that's just stupid," Rose's smile returned, "You think he'll love you more if you're nice to her."

"I think he'll respect me more if I don't let you manipulate me," Kindle responded. Rose walked past the nurses desk, "I'll call security," Kindle warned, "The CDC has a stick up its ass about this quarantine thing."

"You grew balls," Rose smiled admiringly.

"No, I just grew," Kindle sighed, "I'm too old for your games, Charles is too distraught and Isabella is in pain. She's too young to know how to deal with it so _she_ gets to be a bitch. _You_ need to get on your broomstick and back to the Hamptons. Now."

"What she said," Charles came up behind Kindle and kissed her hair.

"Hey cherry pie," Rose smiled at her former husband. He just rolled his eyes and turned his back on her. "Thank you," he caressed Kindle's cheek, "For being so supportive," he gave her a slow deep kiss, "I'm heading home. Do you need a ride?"

"Let's spend the night here," Kindle brushed his hair, "I'll get you a change of clothes in the morning."

"You're too good for me," he kissed her again and went to find an empty On Call Room.

"And to think you had to get married to become an evil mistress," Rosemary watched the exchange.

"Oh Rose," Kindle tucked her hair behind her ear, "I wouldn't have lasted over a decade with Charles if I were all sugar."

No one could disagree with that. All the women he'd spent more than one night with were screwed up and destructive on some level. "The keyword was mistress," Rose turned on her heel and walked away.

"Bitch," Kindle spat when Rose was out of earshot. She wouldn't give the bitch the satisfaction. Kindle then cut out on her shift and joined her husband in the hospital bedroom. "I hate Mrs Bass 2.0," she said as she stripped.

"How about you make me forget Mrs Bass one to four?" Charles pulled her into his lap and kissed her roughly. She'd barely gotten her arms around his neck when the clasp of her bra was undone. This was the kind of sex Kindle had been missing. Charles being his primal self. He laid her on the floor and pulled her pants and underwear off, lifting her legs to his shoulder.

"Oh God I've missed this," she pulled her hair as she watched him push his pants down.

"Good," he pulled one of her legs to the other side of his body, "I don't feel particularly giving right now," he slid on his forearm and guided his member into her.

"Yeah," she wasn't really listening to him any more. She whined as she squeezed his biceps, arched her back and dug her heels into his calves. "Kiss me," she pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt. Charles kissed her neck, her shoulder, her cheek, her ear. He nipped her sensitive skin with every thrust, eliciting sounds that could be heard from the other side of the door. He was rough, almost brutal. She's tired of waiting for him to do it so she put a hand on either side of his face and kissed him on the lips.

She harder she kissed him the more flaccid he became. He stopped and laid his head on her shoulder when his rod turned into rubber. "Fuck!" he slammed his fist into the floor.

"Get off me," Kindle was horny, frustrated and out of patience. Charles ignored her order, penetrated her with two fingers and rubbed her clit with his palm until she came. He removed his hand and lay on top of her, seeking comfort or, at the very least, sleep. He found it, on the ample bosom of his supportive wife. Anthony found it in the bathtub he'd been sitting in all day. Eli hadn't gotten out of bed. Aaron couldn't sleep. He watched Maria sleeping. She did this cute little pout that made him smile. It had been a hard week but for few hours it was peaceful.


	38. Chapter 38

**SPV**

"Irish," a distant voice called, probably not for the first time. What woke me was the fit of coughing that followed.

"What?" I turned to look at her.

"Get a," cough, cough, "Doctor," she instructed. That caught my attention. Bass had asked for a lot of things during our quarantine, never a doctor. Her hands were on her abdomen and she was breathing in short gasps. I pulled my monitors off to get the attention of the Dr Security Guard, who was barely awake. He snapped up and came running.

"I'm good," I stuck the little pads back on, "Relatively speaking," I rasped. He saw that Bass was in pain and entered as quickly as he could, which was not very quick seeing as he had to go through two securely sealed airtight doors.

"Oh shit," he said after examining her. He ran out of the room and called upstairs. That could only mean it was something outside the domain of the CDC. A minute and a half later the floor started to fill with medical personnel.

**APV**

"We need you in the basement," Charles burst into my office.

"Oh God," I got up and followed him. This stupid plague was going to be the death of me.

"Izzy has a burst appendix," he briefed me, "We uh can't take her to the OR. And by the time they set up down there it might be too late. I need you to do something," he was breathing heavily. _Fuck!_

I was trying to think of a plan all through the elevator ride as I listened to Charles giving me the run through of the preparations Crawford was arranging, praying they would have something when I got there. God was busy today.

There were doctors, there was equipment and there was the matter of the protective gear to be worn and the little cubicle that had to close at one side before you opened the other. Isabella was starting to drift out of consciousness.

"Okay," I made a crazy decision, "Get in there and drape," I instructed the anaesthesiologist, "Take vaseline gauze and and a needle, you're using local anaesthetic. We can't get all this crap in there soon enough. Shaughnessy," I moved on as soon as I'd gotten my first soldier armed and in action, "How steady are you?"

"Steady enough," he took the vaseline gauze from the anaesthesiologist and stuck it where he removed his chest tube.

"McNair?" Crawford's eyes jumped out of his skull.

"Don't talk to me," I lifted my hand, watching the anaesthesiologist numb the area. An ambu bag became necessary when she slipped out of consciousness.

"You're letting a child perform crazy MacGuyver surgery on my girlfriend," he hissed.

"So it would help if you were quiet and helped the general surgeon get into that ridiculous attire," I pointed. Charles stood with his hand to his forehead and his eyes closed. He couldn't watch this and I was glad he was silent. I talked Shaughnessy through the surgery with icy fingers around my heart. He was the most talented and hard-working intern in the program but he was just that, an intern.

"She's not stabilising," he panicked just as I was starting to breathe again, "She's bleeding, a lot."

"Suction around the bleed to the source," I wished I'd put on my own stupid suit.

"It's coming from her," gasp, "We need an OB."

Fortunately Crawford had assembled attendings from every speciality and they were ready to go. Shaughnessy had the good sense to put down his tools down before he collapsed.

"For the love of God," I almost cried. The general surgeon finished his job. No one could pick up the skinny kid on the floor because the anaesthesiologist one of the two remaining conscious people was trying to keep the blood inside his patient and the other was pumping her lungs. This was one of the most disastrous surgeries of my career.

"Stop. Pacing," Crawford stuck his hand out in front of Charles.

"Why would she need an OB?" Charles asked me.

"It could be a number of things," I honestly didn't know, "But it appears to be fixable so no one have a stroke, okay kids?"

Two more members of the assembled team went in. After an eternity the surgeons were done and the CDC people went in to clean up the frightening amount of blood, give transfusions, antibiotics etcetera.

"She had an ectopic pregnancy and the fallopian tube ruptured. I stopped the bleeding, evacuated the fetus but I couldn't save the tube," the OB informed us.

"I thought she couldn't have children," Crawford looked to Charles.

"It's a problem with the lining of the uterus," Charles thought out loud, "So I suppose an ectopic pregnancy was not impossible."

"They're going to up her antibiotics, she's been given morphine. Shaughnessy has had his chest tube put back in and he's breathing normally. He did an excellent job on the appi," the general surgeon piped in.

"Thank you," Charles and Crawford said at the same time.

"You need to tell her that you took out her fallopian tube because of a complication from the burst appendix," Charles stunned them into silence.

"Dr Bass we are bound by law," the OB started.

"I don't care," Charles interrupted, "She can't lose another child."

"She was eight weeks along," he argued, "She might wonder where her baby went."

"She doesn't even know she can bear children. I doubt she knew she was pregnant," Charles shook his head, "My wife is not in the best mental state right now. This will destroy her."

"Ex wife," the boyfriend pointed out.

"Shut your mouths and I will do the rest or so help me God I will destroy you and anyone who ever let you stand on their porch in the rain," he glared.

"That's illegal," the general surgeon gasped.

"Making your lives a living hell? No, it just wrong," he said plainly.

"I'm not going to lie to a patient," the OB stood firm.

"You don't have to," Crawford cut in, "All you have to do is walk away."

"You're not seriously going to be a party to this," the general surgeon was shocked.

"Go, both of you just go," I was too tired for this shit, "This, it's unethical but he has more power than one man should and he really will ruin your lives. Save us all the misery and walk away."

They shook their heads and took my advice. "What's the punishment for what we just did?" Crawford wondered out loud.

"Nothing," I answered, "It's all immoral and very wrong but there's no law against ruining someone's life or asking a doctor to withhold the truth. There are grounds for malpractice but there's no jail time for that."

"Why did you marry Kindle?" Crawford asked Charles.

"My life is complicated," he answered.

"You're an idiot," Crawford told him.

"You are not wrong," Charles said in a low, sad tone.

"Sorry to break up this moment," I brought myself to their attention, "But you two need to shower, and shave, and change your clothes, maybe eat. I'm going to sleep but something tells me neither of you will do that."

"Thank you Aaron," Charles touched my shoulder as I passed.

"Thank you," Crawford seconded.

"You're welcome," _to kiss my ass for almost ending my life prematurely._

**CPV**

Isabella was out. She would have been the picture of peace but they were pumping so many fluids into her that she was all puffy. A machine was breathing for her and she was deathly pale. Crawford and I sat in silence watching her. My heart clenched painfully as I thought about the child she'd lost. "I'm sorry for your loss," I said to Crawford.

"Are you?" he asked.

"I am," I answered honestly. He put his face on his knees and I just knew he was crying. I kept silent and as close as I could get to invisible.

"She's miraculous, isn't she?" I watched Isabella. She had been hit with the plague, appendicitis and a miscarriage. I didn't think a body that small could survive all that.

"She is," he sniffed, "And I do love her, you know?"

"Believe me," I told him, "No one knows more about loving Isabella than I do. It will drive you crazy, make you throw out the rule book and it's a hell of a lot of misery sometimes."

"Like today," his hand ran across his cheek, "But I wouldn't trade it."

"Yeah, I know," I got to my feet and touched his shoulder before I left, giving him some privacy.

**BPV**

Doctors lie. They say things like 'slight pinch', 'you'll experience some discomfort', 'you might feel some pressure'. Every part of me was experiencing discomfort and not in its diluted form. I opened my eyes and was blinded by the harsh light. _Mother fuck!_

"You have the vocabulary of a drunken sailor on leave," a familiar Irish accent said.

"Turn off the fucking lights," my throat was bone dry, "And get me some water."

When the light was off I could open my eyes and not feel like something was burning into my skull. I drank the water through a straw. The joys of being surrounded by doctors. I sat up. It was my third day without IVs and a tube in my fun bits. The plague was gone, so were my infections, I even had bathroom privileges but I had to use a wheelchair to get everywhere. These conditions weren't necessary but did I mention all the doctors?

"I need a favour," I sat up.

"I'm not killing your nurse or your boyfriend or his mother or your ex husband or his best friend or _his _girlfriend and I'm not jumping off a bridge," he answered, "Also I'm not getting you coffee, candy, whiskey or a machine gun."

"Take me outside," I sat up.

"Of all the ridiculous things you could ask for," he sighed.

"I'm turning grey," I held up my arm to him. I went without any natural light for two weeks in quarantine then I got cooped up in here with a window I could not open for four weeks, "I need fresh air and I need to use my legs before they get necrotic and fall off."

"Come walk with me," he extended his hand.

"He's seen the light," I jumped up, relatively speaking.

"I just heard you say necrotic instead of fucked up," he explained, "You've been in this hospital too long. Oh and if anyone wants to fire me your boyfriend will stop them or you will leave him."

"Deal," I took his hand and we made our way out of the room. He hid me in the back of the elevator all the way up and we went to the roof. There was a helicopter pad so we would probably be in trouble if a sick person arrived.

"So," he broke the silence, "How serious are you about Crawford?"

"I haven't killed his mother," I was only half joking, "Or slept with my ex."

"Serious then?" he raised his brow.

"Yes," I closed my eyes and looked up. The sun felt wonderful on my face. And thinking about Crawford made me smile. He was annoyingly overprotective and sickeningly romantic but, and touch wood, he made me happy.

"Good to know," he put his arm around me protectively, "Because he's walking around with a three carat rock in his pocket."

"What?" I opened my eyes to see if he was joking. Nope, he does not have that good a poker face. "Is he insane?" I honestly wanted to know, "We've been dating for three minutes."

"How long did you date the chairman?" he asked.

"And look how well that turned out," I found myself yelling, "Our marriage did not have an anniversary."

"Crawford is forty two," Irish said gravely, "You almost died, from three separate things. Life is short and he wants to spend the rest of his with your crazy, troublesome ass."

"I'm so much worse than that," it just came out.

"Nobody cares," he shook his head slowly, "You got me _shot_ with a side of _plague_, Crawford knows you slept with the chairman that day, we're still here. Dr Bass is married and he won't leave. You deserve to have people in your life who love you. Don't argue, don't make a snarky comment, absorb it."

"You sound like my shrink," I said after an appropriate moment of silence.

"There are worse things to sound like," he shrugged.

"Like your angry boyfriend," Crawford said behind us.

"She... uh..." Shaughnessy scratched his head.

"Is a bully," Crawford filled in, "And she needed air."

"Your exploding useless organ has proved useful," Shaughnessy whispered as he handed my hand over to Crawford. Then smiled and walked away.

"Don't make me go back to bed," I pleaded because he could make me.

"We can stay up here... and talk," he was nervous.

"Okay," I breathed.

"I know there are things I don't know about you," he tucked my hair behind my ear, "And this has been a rough month but I assure you I've thought this through. This isn't how I planned to do this. I many very many changing plans but you are not that girl so there," he took out a ring. It was beautiful. Probably three carats like Irish said, set in platinum, simple, classic. "I want you to think about it. Take as much time as you need."

"Fine," I snatched the thing out of his hand, "I'm sick of living like I'm gonna die," I told him, "I want to make plans and think about my future and all the other crap people do when they plan to be alive in twenty years. It see you in it. Just give me a little time to be sure."

"You can have all the time in the world," he leaned against the railing and pulled me to him so he was supporting most of my weight, "But you've only got ten more minutes on this roof."

"Don't you have to wait till I'm the little woman to start bossing me around?" I leaned into his soft comforting shape.

"I boss people around," he kissed my cheek, "It's what I do."

"I love you," I said into his chest. There was a noticeable silence. "And you can call me Belle. I'm not giving an inch on anything else."

"But I can have a nickname because you love me," he bounced. I swear he did. And I did love Crawford. Not in the way I loved Charles but that was the point. I needed a mild love. I needed to wake up to the weather channel. Hell I needed a guy who would shove a ring in my face as a marriage proposal. So his mother hates me. A lot of people hate me.

"Belle," he took a test drive, "I love you," it was like he was reading my mind. A smile came to my face when I realised I could think about having my mind read and not feel like I was being stabbed. I was growing.


	39. Chapter 39

**BPV**

I've always wondered why it was necessary to have unusual in cruel and unusual punishment. Cruelty seemed fitting but unusual? I didn't understand how someone came up with that one till I was lying on a hospital bed having my toes painted by my future mother-in-law. "Marie!" she screeched.

"Lower your pitch," I rubbed my temples, "I feel like my eardrums are being cut with razor wire."

"Don't be rude," she pinched my thumb under pretence of holding still, "How many children are you going to have?"

"We're not having kids," I sighed at her reaction before it even came.

"Jackie only says he doesn't want them because his career is so demanding but you do not have a job," she hinted.

"I can't stand children," I told her. And I wasn't just saying it. They were loud, sticky and you had to be nice to them.

"You have two," she felt I needed reminding.

"Anthony and Eli are not like other kids," I responded without thinking. Every parent must say that.

"Any child of Jackie's would be unique," she looked up from her work.

"Stop calling him that. He is a grown man," my annoyance came to the surface.

"Jack junior would be a good name for a boy," she wouldn't let it go.

"You know very well I can't have children," I replied.

"Perhaps he should be with someone who can have them, should he change his mind," she got to her real point.

"I'm lying in a hospital bed minus a fallopian tube and you're using my inability to have children to separate me from your son?" I put her plot into words.

"That is not my design," she lied, "If you were serious about marrying my son you would remove the ring hanging from your neck. It's giving the one around your finger an inferiority complex."

"I'll take it to therapy," I wasn't getting into this with her. I'd had this conversation too many times already.

"Do not be flippant," she pursed her lips.

"Mind your own business," was clearly the solution, "I've had this conversation with Crawford."

"He lets you have your way because you have the temper of a rattle snake," she all but hissed. This woman did not like me.

"He knows all this," I lifted my hands and let them fall to the bed, "And he will still have me. You clearly don't want him to marry me but you are talking to the wrong person. I honestly don't give a shit what you think of me and I would be happy to drop my thin veil of politeness. The question is: do you want your son to be stuck in the middle? Take some time," I advised when she started to respond, "Think about it and get the fuck out of my room while you do so."

"I have never been spoken to this way," she stood indignantly.

"That's why you're such an entitled bitch," the crack in the damn widened.

"Why you..." she couldn't find a name to call me. The perfectly calm exterior had melted and Mrs Crawford was seething.

"Don't start a name calling contest with me I don't think you can swear quite like I can," I replied smoothly. She left the room mumbling things about manners and lack of breeding and other such shit. That felt good to get off my chest.

"The she-Crawford seems pissed," Irish came into the room.

"My toenails are coral," I wiggled my toes, "The universe is balanced."

"Your former and future husbands are tearing at each other," he leaned against the wall, "McNair's terrorising the all the interns but one. You've made me a rockstar."

"I've created a monster. You never leave this place," I said jealously. He had ample opportunity to leave and he did not use it.

"It's not proper that we live together, remember?" he laughed.

"You live in my empty, rented apartment," I huffed, "The she-Crawford is soft in the head."

"No, she just hates you," he corrected.

"I don't know any mother that wouldn't," I gave her that one, "Oh and give me a hobby, would you? Crawford keeps asking about my hobbies and I don't think 'bar brawls and blow' should be my response."

"Antiquing?" he offered.

"Get the fuck out," I waved him off.

"You have this look in your eyes that unsettles me," he said to the window, "I haven't known you long enough to speak of its permanence but I hope it passes," he bit his lip and turned to leave.

"There were twins in my junior class in Arizona. One of them was not that bright but they were both straight A students," I shared what had come to me, "What if I killed the wrong man? I have never known Cain to behave as he did when I last saw him alive. And just as I start to think I might have killed an innocent man it dawns on me that this might not have been the first deception, that they may have been switching the entire time, that I don't know who fathered my child. Hating Cain is one of the things I would write down if I were asked to list things that have formed my character. Now..."

"Scoot over," he took of his shoes and climbed into my bed. I turned into his chest and buried my face there.

"Maybe I deserve to be tortured by this forever," I thought out loud.

"Don't say crap like that Twig," he brushed my hair. Irish had given me an annoying nickname, a stupid, stupid, annoying nickname.

"Call me Twig one more time and I'll give you a close-up of my knuckles," I made an idle threat. There weren't a lot of people I wouldn't hit but he was one of them.

"You have to stop saying that," he said into my hair, "People may start to catch on and think the rest of your threats as empty."

"How about you comfort me in silence?" I snuggled closer. He didn't say another word, just held me together as I threatened to fall apart. I drifted into a dimension between sleep and waking.

"Shaughnessy," Crawford whispered, "I'll take over for you. I'm sure someone other than my fiance needs you."

"Yes sir," his warmth started slipping from me.

"I've been an ass to you," Crawford admitted, "Even by my standards. And I know you're not sleeping with her, that you two are like family. I don't want to take that away from her or from you because its something neither of you have but my jealousy is not unfounded. I need her to need me."

"I get that," Irish was no longer in my bed, "And I see the efforts you make to understand her but here's some free advice: turn off the home theatre, lock the door, put a bottle of whiskey on the table and tell her a story about the worst thing you've ever done."

"How bad should this thing be? On a scale of one to ten," Crawford asked. This was not the kind of thing people would think of as romantic but it warmed my heart.

"It should be about a nine point eight on your guilt meter," Irish answered.

"What did she do that haunts her so much?" Crawford asked desperately.

"It's not my place to tell you," the Irishman said sadly. There was a thump that pulled me closer to waking.

"It's not your place to lie with my fiance and you have no problem doing that," Crawford hissed, "I would never do anything to threaten her safety and nothing could make me stop loving her. Tell me."

"She killed a man," Irish answered, "He hurt her and she killed him. She found out he has a twin and wonders if she didn't kill the wrong man."

Dead silence fell on the room. "She killed a man," Crawford digested.

"She put down a dog," the reply came from Charles.

"I'm going... somewhere else," Shaughnessy left the room.

"This dog," Crawford enquired.

"Put the marks on her back," Charles supplied, "He's the reason she screams in her sleep. If you begrudge her putting an end to his miserable, pathetic life then you don't deserve her."

"I need a moment to wrap my head around the fact that my delicate little Belle ended a life," Crawford said in a low tone.

"This is why you two will not work," Charles was certain, "You're a boy scout, she's a renegade."

"Get out," Crawford said in calm level tone, "You're not family and you're not wanted. Get the fuck out of my fiance's room."

"Or what?" Charles challenged, "You're going to have me removed? You'll be hard pressed to find someone who'll lay a hand on me. And it not like you can do it."

"Charles," I broke through the veil of sleep.

"I'm right here," he rushed to my side.

"You need to leave," I told him, "And you need to speak to my future husband with more respect or you need to not come back."

"Okay," he brushed my hair, "I'll watch what I say to him from now on and I'll see you tomorrow. The boys are coming to visit."

I just smiled and nodded. He kissed my hand and then he was gone. "Hey you," Crawford brushed my cheek, "You've got your colour back."

"My appetite too," I pushed his hand into the front of my gown, around my breast.

"Belle," he pulled his hand out, "You're not at a hundred percent."

"I haven't had sex in almost two months," I whined, "I'm losing my mind."

"Well I'm a boy scout," he threw his hands up, "My criminal record amounts to a speeding ticket, I have dinner with my mom twice a week and I wait for the doctor's okay to have sex with my woman."

"You suck," I pulled him into bed, jacket, shoes and all.

"Tell me my love," he smiled, "How did you manage to rack up sixty seven tickets."

"That was easy," I smiled back, "I own a viper, the speed limit is the minimum, the sign says SPOT, not STOP and everything else is a suggestion."

"And how did you make thirteen counts of assault disappear?" he went through my criminal record.

"Money," I stated the obvious.

"What about the murder charge no one ever heard about?" he really had no social skills, not that there's an appropriate way to ask your fiance if she killed a man but there were certainly better ways.

"The body disappeared from the medical examiner's table," I answered, "I had no hand in that but it certainly made my life easier."

"So this man you killed," he went on, "Is it Cain?"

"Yes," I nodded. Your ghosts are no longer your secrets once you've screamed about them in a hospital basement.

"Who's Raphael?" he asked.

"Cain's twin," I answered.

"Sarah?" apparently we were getting it all out today.

"My daughter," I felt my heart sink as I said the words, "Cain's daughter."

"I thought you hated him," his mind wasn't grasping the situation.

"With a passion," I admitted.

"Then how is it that you two came to procreate?" he frowned.

"I think you know," I looked up at him.

"He forced himself on you," his jaw pulsated.

"You don't know the half of it," I shook my head.

"I'm so sorry," he kissed my hand.

"Don't do that," I pulled my hand away, "Don't look at me like I'm some beaten up puppy you picked up on the side of the road."

"It isn't that," he pulled my hand into his again, "I've never met anyone like you. You're strong but you're fragile. And I never know which side I'm addressing. What I do know is that I love you, and if I spend the rest of my life getting to know you I'll be happy."

"You're taking this considerably well," I was surprised. It wasn't exactly the reaction I'd been expecting.

"The straight and narrow is overrated," he pulled me closer, "And it isn't worth losing you."

"I knew there was a reason I was marrying you," I wiped the corner of my eye and buried my face in his shirt.

"Shut up and go to sleep," he smiled into my hair. He didn't need to tell me twice. I had a strange dream about Crawford smoking a pipe while reading a newspaper. The next afternoon the cutest people in uniforms came to visit.

"So you're really marrying that guy," Eli said for the tenth time. I made a sound of confirmation. If I nodded any more my head would drop off.

"Why?" Anthony frown.

"I love him and he's good for me," I answered.

"What is it with you and old guys?" Anthony's frown deepened.

"I see you inherited your mother's tact, or lack thereof," I shook my head at him, "How's your father?"

"Miserable. What do you think?" Anthony again.

"It's not as bad as he makes it out to be," his brother contradicted, "They're actually making things work."

"Good," I smiled. They weren't convinced. "I have no love for your step mother but I don't want your father to be miserable. He may not have shown me his best side lately but he's still the man who gave me my life back twice and expected nothing in return. I want him to be happy," I assured, "And I want the card game I was promised," I sat on my feet.

"Go fish," Eli pulled a deck out of his jacket and started tearing the covering plastic.

"How about poker?" I looked back and forth between them.

"Besides the fact that you have no money on you it isn't legal for us to gamble," Anthony sat down on the lower part of the bed and Eli pulled out a chair.

"Let's go fish," I changed my tune.

"Will the sequel be coming to play?" Eli chuckled.

"Would you mind?" I asked. Eli just shook his head as he shuffled. I turned to look at Anthony.

"I wouldn't hate it," he shrugged.

"That's the spirit," I laughed. It was as close to approval as I would get from Anthony. We passed the afternoon playing stupid card games and even managed to sneak some junk food past the sentinels. Maria dropped by for about an hour and we all pretended not to see the way Eli kept staring at her. My poor baby, hung up on Aaron's girl. Charles picked up the kids, hardly said a word then kissed my hand and left. At the end of the day I closed my eyes and counted back from a hundred till I was asleep. I dreamed of wearing an eighties getup complete with pearls. This was anxiety about being domesticated. It weirded me out but it trumped anxiety about being trapped in an underground fortress for nearly two years. Movin' on up.


End file.
